


Man, I Feel Like A

by ontoxay (xaymak)



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: (more than One ;)), (not in first chapter tho), Coming Out, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Wild (Linked Universe), Genderqueer Character, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Misgendering, Trans Link (Legend of Zelda), Tumblr Prompt, Wild (Linked Universe)-centric, is link demi gender or agender or what? no idea! this is purely author projection, wild walks out of the shrine like "whats a gender. is that some kinda sauce"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26945323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaymak/pseuds/ontoxay
Summary: At what point is it considered appropriate to tell your travelling companions you’re actually a man, and at what point are you supposed to take the secret to your grave?Wild himself would admit he makes a pretty good shieldsister, if it weren't for the fact he's not even a woman half the time.
Relationships: Wild (Linked Universe) & Everyone
Comments: 142
Kudos: 757





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> started making it... had a breakdown... bon appetit :]
> 
> based off this prompt (https://linkeduniverse-prompts.tumblr.com/post/630087706089832448/they-portalled-at-the-warmest-gerudo-town-ever)!
> 
> cw: wild Is misgendered at first! he doesnt think anything of it tbh but its There and it will rear up its head in later chapters. just so u know!!

Hylia help them, they almost got skewered onto spears where the portal spat them out.

Hyrule is quick to hold up his hands in a gesture of peace, feeling crosseyed trying to focus on the gleaming metal just centimeters away from his nose. The woman on the other end of the weapon sneers. “Voe! How dare you invade our town!”

Voe? It’s a foreign word. He darts his gaze around, taking in the training dummies lined up, the weapons in racks and in every woman’s hands, and, well, the crowd of armed women that look ready to kill for whatever offense their group have inflicted in the single minute they’ve had since being dropped three meters down a rock wall. This looks more like a military barrack than a town.

To his side, Time tries appeasement. “We apologize for the fuss, we did not intend to disturb your town. We were ambushed by monsters when a portal opened up and brought us here.” He was the one to crowd the group back, keeping them from immediately fighting back when the guards cried out with alarm at their unexpected appearance. 

“Gerudo,” he had hissed out between clenched teeth. “Stand down and we should be fine, but stay on your guards.”

It was a good call; guard after guard flooded into the area they had dropped down into, and they were surrounded almost immediately. It would’ve been a brutal fight, not one they were likely to win.

One of them, it’s impossible to tell who, jeers. “Unfortunate for you voe, then.” 

“We will escort you out,” another says. Her grip on her sword is less aggressive than before, but a pass of her glare is enough to warn them not to try anything. “Follow me, and do not touch or bother any of the civilians, or your safety will not be ensured.”

“Wait.”

The crowd around them shifts, slowly breaking away, and yet another woman steps through. Like all the others, she towers above them all, but her presence manages to be even more intimidating than the rest. “Portal, you say? You were teleported here?”

Legend scoffs, loud enough that Hyrule can’t help but look to the sky and pray that he’s not going to piss off the locals and get them killed. “Did you miss the big swirling void that let us bounce down the rock wall?” He yelps when a hilt jabs his back.

“Don’t speak to the captain that way!”

The captain, as she seems to be, only narrows her eyes at them. “It would do you well to watch your tone. Khali, Leena, escort them out to the shrine with me. Kanom, go summon Link. I believe they may be of interest to her.”

_Link?_

His wide eyes catch on everyone else’s, flickers of surprise and excitement crossing their faces. Was this a new land? He’d thought it was Time’s, given that he knew the people, but the name is strikingly consistent. Would the hero really be so easy to find?

“Who’s Link?” Wind pipes up. His young age works in his favor—none of the women seem as hostile to him as the others. “What’s he- uh, she gonna do with us?”

Two warriors nudge them into walking, the captain leading the way. “She is a gentle soul, so you have nothing to fear, little one,” one says, sounding more relaxed now that their group is on their way out. “She’s been tracking down the portals, so she will likely ask you questions and send you on your way.”

The other guard snorts, a faint giggle rising from the end. “Bah, send them on their way? She’s too sweet for that. Little Hylian vai will probably insist on helping them get to the bazaar or the stables herself.”

“Quiet, you two,” the captain snaps, and both fall silent. Her eyes are cutting as she glances back at the group. “Link is a kind vai, yes, but do not be mistaken. If she finds any of you a danger to herself or others, she will cut you down with no hesitation. Step wisely.”

They’re led out through an out-of-way path, only a few non-armed Gerudo catching sight of them. The moment they’re out of the town walls, the sun seems to take that as permission to beat down harder. Sand shifts under Hyrule’s feet, and he can’t help but look around in wonder. Desert as far as he can see, storms of it whipping in the distance. He walks along in a daze, twisting his head and nearly knocking into poor Twilight as he surveys the land. The older man looks like he might soon keel over in the heat, covered as he is.

He’s not the only one looking around. There’s something about this place that speaks of its vastness. Even Legend and Time, seasoned adventurers they are, seem disconcerted at how never-ending the desert seems to be. That settles whether it’s Time’s Hyrule or not, then. A new land, a new Link.

They turn around a corner of the wall and stop. “Over there,” the captain says as she points to a strange stone structure. It’s tall, engraved with strange blue markings that glow even under the afternoon sun. Swirls and disjointed lines, a strange eye framed by a few more flourishes. Under the eye, an alcove sits, another circle glowing in the floor as if a small mirror to the platform that leads to its entrance.

“That’s the… shrine, you called it?” Warriors asks. It certainly doesn’t look like a place of worship, but the religion could be different here for all they know. All he gets in reply is an indifferent hum.

For what it’s worth, the shrine provides blessed shade, and Hyrule doesn’t hesitate to duck inside, though he avoids getting too close to any of the glowing circles in the floor. Twilight and Legend do the same, and one by one the others sigh and stretch and sit where the sun can’t burn.

Without further ado, the captain says, “Link should arrive sooner than later, and it would most likely be in your best interests to stay until she does. Perhaps she can keep you from stumbling into another portal.” She spares them one last look, sharply assessing, and adds, “And for the child’s sake, do not try to traverse the desert. Not until late afternoon when it’s cooled down, at least.”

And with that, the Gerudo leave.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Four asks, “So we’re in a new Hyrule, right? Unless anyone here can claim it?”

One by one, each deny the possibility. “Another hero, then,” Sky murmurs, something regretful under his breath. He was the most haunted as their band grew, and though they’ve reassured him that the cycle is in no way his fault, he still seems to ache at every new iteration, every sliver of adventure’s lore revealed. “Did you hear the guards? They said she, so…?”

“A heroine!” Wind cheers. He’s sitting on the edge of the platform, curiously sifting the sand through his fingers. He looks up and grins at them as he speaks. “Aryll’s gonna be happy, she’s always wanted a big sister. Oh!” His eyes sparkle at a thought. “Do you think she’s gonna be younger than me? Another little sister! I don’t know about you guys, but I need someone to dote on, it’s kinda weird without someone younger around.”

Warriors snorts gently. “I don’t think my heart can take it if we get someone even younger than you, squirt. _Yes,_ ” he says before Wind can protest, “you are an experienced adventurer and all, but the fact that you had to be isn’t great. I would hate to think of someone even younger.” 

Hyrule thinks he looks to Time for a second, but he’s back to smiling at Wind before Hyrule can be sure.

It drops to a comfortable quiet after that while they wait for Link to show up. Not completely silent, though. Twilight and Sky rib at Time to remove his armor “before you get heatstroke, which you will definitely get” while they themselves shed layers. Wind and Four discuss how beach sand and desert sand are different. The sun doesn’t let up, hazily drifting down the sky a few degrees at most. Hyrule lets his eyes unfocus, staring at the mirages that float along the horizon.

Legend sits up from where he leans against cool stone. “Is that her?”

There, at the town entrance. A Hylian dressed in the same garb as the Gerudo talks to two guards, hands gesturing and pointing to the shrine. She raises a hand to shield her eyes as she peers at them, and Wind waves widely when he notices. Link waves back, a little less enthusiastic but still clearly. After a farewell to the guards, she makes her way over to them.

Suddenly, Hyrule feels nerves eat at his fingertips, a buzz under his skin. Yet another hero to get used to being around. Will they get along? Will she tip the scale from the group being tolerable to overwhelming in their presence?

Someone bumps into his shoulder—Legend makes a show of not looking directly at him, eyes fixed upon the approaching figure. “Loosen up,” he says quietly, still not looking at Hyrule. “It’ll be fine, we’ll figure it out as we go along.”

It’s too late to dip further into anxious thoughts. Link crests a sand dune and becomes clear to the sight for the first time.

_Pretty_ , Hyrule thinks. _Scarred,_ he thinks next.

They’re everywhere, disfigured skin all around her left side, crawling up her shoulder and neck and even past the veil that covers her face and into her hairline. Burns linger on this woman harsher than they could exist on anyone living, and countless other scars litter the remaining skin. Sword slashes, spear stabs, even what looks to be lightning ferns. 

But she’s undeniably pretty. Beautiful, even. Her eyes are a dazzling blue even from afar, and she moves with a grace only royalty could hope to emulate. Long hair swings in time with her strides. Despite the battles written in her skin, she walks with a confidence born out of having survived all of them.

“Sav’aaq!” she calls out. “I’m told you lot got dumped out of a strange portal?”

* * *

Well, she’s definitely older than Wind, but she is _definitely_ going to be a cool person to adventure with. The sword strapped to her back is probably bigger than he is, and she stands before them with her hip cocked out just like how Tetra does. It’s a strong pose, confident and with a hint of swagger. 

Wind loves it. She looks like she has a million wild stories to tell.

“Sav’aaq!” he greets back, fumbling the word a little. Only a little, though! The way her eyes curl into a smile tells him he didn’t do too badly. “That’s hello, right? Are you Link? The captain said you’d wanna talk to us!”

He slips out from between Twilight and Four to grin more directly at her, unable to help his excitement. She’s Link, one of them; he can feel it in his heart. The same feeling of familiarity and recognition and _right_ that he’s felt with all the other heroes.

This close, she doesn’t look that much older than him. Maybe a few years at best.

“It means ‘good day’, yeah. And yes, I’m Link.” She walks right up to the platform, uncaring of the blue glow under her shoes. There’s a terseness in the line of her shoulders, but she holds herself otherwise loose, casual. “So—portal?”

This is where Time steps up, exchanging glances with Twilight and Warriors. Wind allows himself to be pulled a bit further back into the shade while they decide: do they come clean immediately? Do they play along with what Link is after?

Wind’s seen this debate a handful of times. They usually make a good enough judgement, so he’s content to follow their lead for the time being.

Warriors is the one to speak. “Yes, a dark portal, big enough to swallow us all. We fell into it, and it took us from where we were to, well, the middle of this town.” His tone shifts to wry. “I take it men aren’t welcomed here, miss?”

Link hums. “No, voe are not allowed to enter Gerudo Town. Though it’s strange…”

She takes another step towards them, gaze intent as she studies them one by one. Beside him, Hyrule takes a step back, uncertainty tightening his eyes. Sky shifts uneasily. Four’s breathing purposefully evens out. Even Legend tenses up. Despite not doing anything threatening, something in her stance has shifted to scream _danger!_ , and Wind swallows with an abruptly dry throat.

“What is strange?” Time prods. His stance also changes, from unassuming and relaxed to on guard. The other two also hold themselves differently, like subconsciously they’re all preparing for a fight.

Suddenly, Wind realizes she’s cornered them in the shrine.

“These portals have only ever released monsters, you see.” Her voice drops quieter and quieter, but the steel underneath is almost visible. “Then how is it your group gets dropped out of one? Hylian travelers, unlucky enough to fall into a portal rather than being ambushed by monsters from one?

“...Unless you aren’t truly Hylian travelers?”

“Wait!” Four blurts out, but it’s too late. Only Time’s battle-ingrained reflexes keep him from being cut, his own sword drawn just fast enough to block her blade. “This is a misunderstanding!”

Quick as lightning, Link raises her shield to block a strike from Warriors, taking the opportunity to parry back and swipe at his knees. Warriors swears and jumps back, nearly bashing his head into the wall behind. 

“Wait!”

Metal rings out against metal as Sky meets her next strike, the glow of the Master Sword ghostly across his face. “Please, hear us out!”

“...!” Link backflips once away, dodging a grab from Twilight. “That’s…!”

Sky waits, but after a few moments, he lowers his arm. She’s staring at the sword in disbelief, incredulity obvious even in the way her ears stick up. “I take it you recognize her?” he asks, not quite daring to fully lower his guard. They’re all frozen in a tableau of wariness, all aware of the danger she could pose to them before they can convince her of the situation.

Her gaze travels up from the blade up to him, and even though Wind isn’t at the end of her glare he feels its feral intensity. “Why,” she asks—no, _demands_ , “do you have that?”

“It’s a long story, if you’d just let us explain—”

“I restored the sword to its resting place,” Link says, low and fierce. “Calamity Ganon is dead. What kind of trickery is this? Are you the ones responsible for the monsters?”

Wind brightens in spite of himself. That’s as good as confirmation she’s wielded the sword before. His hunch was right. If only they can get her to trust them…!

“Take the sword and she’ll tell you!” Sky insists. “This isn’t a trap. We mean you no harm, really. Please, we are heroes just like you.”

“Is giving the woman who just tried to kill us your sword a good idea?” Wind elbows Legend harshly. “What! It’s a valid concern!”

To be fair, Wind hasn’t lowered his weapon either. They’d all jumped into action the moment she did. Fellow hero or not, reflexes are a life-saving thing. It’s with wary stances that they watch Sky flip the Master Sword, offering it hilt first to Link. A moment passes, two, and Link’s sword swings back up to be sheathed on her back.

When her hand grips the Master Sword, its glow paints her scars in lurid blue.

“...Otherworldly travelers?”

Wind lets out a breath he didn’t know he was even holding. “I dunno, it kinda sounds like we’re aliens when you say it like that. We’ve figured out we’re coming from different parts of different timelines, though!”

Link huffs out a laugh, hostility sliding off her frame. She hands back the Master Sword to Sky and takes a step back to survey their group once more.

“My apologies for the rough start,” she says, dipping her head in a bow. “It’s been more and more dangerous around here lately. Portals are popping up everywhere and spitting out strange monsters. Did you hit the wall?” She directs this last part to Warriors, who smiles charmingly, if not a tad warily. Bleck.

“Not to worry, miss. It’ll take more than a stumble to take me down!” Gross. Grossssssss. Wind forgoes holding up his sword to cover his face and groan.

“Do you have to flirt with every person you meet?” he complains.

“Why you little—! It’s called natural charisma and being polite!” Warriors catches him in a headlock and starts scrubbing at his scalp, much to his horror. “I’m not going to flirt with someone who’s essentially me!”

With that, the tension breaks. Hyrule laughs at the fuss and even louder when Legend says, faux-casual, “That doesn’t exclude everyone else you flirt with, captain.” Wind twists and squirms to throw Warriors off, bolstered by the laughter of his friends and of the newest hero to join their group.

Link, for her part, relaxes considerably. She speaks quietly with Time and Twilight while the rest shake off their little adrenaline high, then addresses the group as a whole once they quiet down. “There’s an inn at the bazaar near here where voe are allowed to enter. Just don’t cause any trouble and you should be fine. If we leave now, the sun shouldn’t be too hot to bear and we should arrive before it gets cold.”

The path is long and winding, sand getting in boots and under clothes. Wind finds himself near the front of the group, pelting Link with questions that she seems amused to entertain. She smiles, at least, so he’s taking that as a win. _What’s a voe?_ It’s the Gerudo word for male, with vai as female. _How far is the trek to the bazaar?_ A couple hours, maybe even three or four if there were enemies in the way. _What are those round plants that grew in random spots?_ Hydromelons, and she picks up all the ones in their path and magicks them away with a tap of a slab on her waist and a wink, much to his awe. _How does she not get sunburned in that outfit?_ She leans close, showing him the magic interwoven into the fabric.

Finally, a large rock spire becomes visible in the distance, draped in flags and with lanterns hung up. “Just about another half hour,” Link says. She doesn’t seem at all tired by the long walk. “Once we’re there, I’ll get you boys some dinner and you can fill me in on the details of your quest while we eat?”

“Sounds good,” Twilight says, obviously relieved. Poor poor rancher; even with the sun beginning to lower, he still looks the most bedraggled by the desert. Sand has stuck into his pelt til it looks more tan than grey. “Your Hyrule uses rupees too, right?”

Link waves him off without even turning to look. “Dinner’s on me, let me call it even for trying to behead you all before now.” Wind turns to exchange wide eyes with Four—behead?—but his are a lot more eager than Four’s look. Link is totally going to be his older sister. She’s already like a pirate, except she’s one of a sea of sand rather than water.

The sand gives way to steady rock. Time sighs in relief, and Wind can’t help but turn around to give a cheeky little “That’s what you get for wearing such heavy armor!” and prancing away from a half-hearted swipe. He and the smaller heroes probably had the easiest time of it, those more heavily clad sinking into the sand.

With the evening chill sweeping in, they’re quick to weave their way past stalls and lighting torches to enter a building carved in the spire they had seen earlier. A general store sits in front, the shopkeeper barely flicking her eyes up at them before waving them further inside. “Sav’saaba,” Link greets. “Do you have room for…” She takes a moment to count them all. “Nine guests?”

The innkeeper stares at the large group for a moment before sighing. “You’re lucky today’s caravan is camping outside,” she says. “180 for regular beds, 360 for soft beds. If you want dinner too, it’s double for regular and 540 for soft beds.”

“Regular beds, no dinner. I can use the cooking counter inside, right?” At the innkeeper’s nod, she taps the slab at her waist and pays with a handful of rupees that materialize in her other hand, ignoring the heroes’ protests. “Pay me back later if you’re so hung up over it,” she says, firmly herding them over to the inn’s baths.

“So, not the little sister you hoped for, huh?” Four teases, sinking into the bathwater. The baths are big enough that a few can go in at once, and they’re all tired enough to forego the usual turns. The warm water feels nice against muscles aching after an eventful day, and Wind blows a few bubbles under the surface. The only thing nicer than this is the hot springs Twilight brought them to a few portals ago. “Guess she’s pretty nice.”

“You seem taken in by her,” Warriors adds, sliding in to join them. He rolls his shoulders and sighs as he settles in, tipping his head back. His eyes close even as he continues talking. “Shouldn’t get on my case of having manners when you’re trailing after her like a puppy—HEY.”

Wind ducks back under the water to avoid the revenge splash. Being wet by choice is infinitely better than being wet by attack.

“It’s not my fault she’s cool and you’re lame,” he proclaims once he comes back up. “Besides, no one was really talking to her much, you can’t blame me for wanting to not be a stranger. We’re supposed to be companions! Traveling together across time and space!”

Four frowns at that. “Mm… yeah, I kinda hung back today. I wanted to get a better feel for her, I guess, but you’re right. We’re stuck with each other anyway. ’ll try to engage her more later then.” 

A banging against the bathroom door startles them all. “Hurry up!” Twilight calls out. “Dinner’s going to be ready soon!”

They get out and dressed awfully quick after that.

* * *

Link didn’t leave the house expecting to feed a small horde of heroes, but he’ll make do. It’s lucky that he’s a bit of a hoarder; he might’ve gone overboard with the proportions, but travellers are always hungry, young warriors even more so. “Give it 15, 20 more minutes to simmer,” he tells one of them (Cloud? Sun? Something to do with sky, he thinks) and goes to take his own bath.

Once he’s clean and in the water, he slumps, letting out a long groan. Idiot. He’s an absolute idiot. Tried to kill his ancestors, past incarnations, however this hero spirit thing worked—who does that other than idiots?

_At least it’s not unusual_ , he reminds himself. The wolf pelt guy said Lore (Myth? He really should remember actual names instead of vaguely remembering concepts) had also tried stabbing their group the first meeting, so Link’s not alone in this.

Oh goddesses. Is he gonna have to get a weird nickname now? Mushroom the Hylian champion? Century-old Failure? Ser Shrine Dude?

The old tunic and leggings he slips on look decent enough. Kachuu doesn’t spare him a glance, already used to the apparent presentation change. “Oh, it’s you!” the smallest one exclaims mutedly at the sight of him. His name’s a number or something, but Link has just been calling him Colors for his odd tunic. “Sorry, miss, thought you were another traveller.”

Link pauses. “Miss,” still? That’s new; usually people stopped using feminine words for him once they saw him out of traditional women’s clothing. Maybe he’s being considerate, not wanting Link to be seen as some sort of perverted imposter where they may be overheard. 

(Oh, how he’ll come to regret that moment. Would’ve spared him a whole lot of trouble if he’d just corrected Four in the first place.)

“No need for ‘miss’, Link is fine,” is all he says, before he frowns. “Ah. This is where I get a nickname of some sort, isn’t it…”

The one watching the soup laughs. Cloud or whatever, though Sun certainly seems like it’ll fit better with the easy way he smiles. “No need to look so apprehensive! It’s just taken from your hero name. If you don’t already know yours, we can ask the sword.”

“We can settle that later,” Thyme (Time? It’s one or the other) cuts in. “Let’s eat before the soup burns.”

Much to Link’s delight, the creamy heart soup is a smash hit. There’s excited chatter as they all dig in, more than a few compliments thrown his way. It’s only because he ladled the portions ahead of time that he has enough to share with Kachuu and Shaillu.

“None of us are really good at cooking,” Hyrule (he remembers this one, because it’s pretty hard to mess up the name of the kingdom) says to him. “We can get by, but, uh, well…”

“Hyrule’s the worst of us,” Four (Link got a proper introduction a few minutes ago) tells with a conspiratorial smile. Hyrule’s ears turn red as he laughs guiltily. “He could probably burn water if he tried.”

Lore-or-maybe-Myth scoffs. “Bold words from someone who fed us all burnt rocks last week.”

“Hey! I was distracted by the frogs _you_ let Wind put in my bedroll!”

Hylia, may She ever watch over him, has sent Link comedians as ancestral spirits. He can’t help but giggle at the thought of serious-looking Four burning dinner because he was too busy trying to catch frogs from his pack.

Dinner goes mostly along those lines, a few heroes talking to him at a time. After he accidentally referred to Sky as Cloud, they’d all taken the chance to introduce themselves to him properly. Wind is probably his favorite, first to reach out and eager to laugh. He just about begs Link for a story, which soon is to Twilight’s consternation.

“How do you set a bear on fire and think riding it is a good idea?” he keeps asking. Maybe this is a sign Link will fit right in, the funnyman to Twilight’s straightman in this comedy act. The story was rocky to get out at first, mostly because Wind didn’t know what a bear was, but it’s fun seeing the boy light up with excitement.

It’s only after cleaning up that Sky approaches him again with intent in his expression, Master Sword in hand. Shaillu had left ages ago, and Kachuu bid them goodnight as she retired for the night, entrusting Link to keep any damage away from the inn. He keeps his tone soft, but there’s something welcoming in his direct gaze. “I believe you may have some questions?”

Many. He didn’t bother asking when they were on the road, travellers walking past at any given moment, but it’s quiet and secluded in the inn. Most are content to camp outside where setting up shop is easiest, and Link knows after having spent many nights here that none of the Gerudo here are the type to pry. First one: “Who is the spirit of the sword?”

That’s how the rest of the night goes. Link learns of Fi, listens to the heroes’ retelling of their joined adventure thus far, laughs at the easy banter and jibbing made when dark memories become too heavy. The longer he sits there, the more comfortable he feels. 

The Master Sword—Fi—she had spoken only the bare minimum, just enough for a frantic Link to calm down and extend some trust. _Incarnations of the same spirit,_ she’d said. Comrades pulled from other worlds, lands past, by Hylia’s hand. _Have faith, champion._

Something in his heart had tugged at him to believe her, but this… It’s almost unsettling how easily he falls in with them. Already they feel like fast friends, a few still a little reserved but all quick to allow him into their circle.

“So,” Four says, drawing Link’s attention out of his thoughts. He blinks and finds eight pairs of eyes on him. “Do you know your hero title?”

At least he doesn’t have to go by Mushroom. The alternative isn’t much better, though. “I’m not sure, but the Sheikah monks called me the Hylian Champion.”

“‘Hyrule’ is already taken,” Legend muses. “Champion?”

It’s a word commonly applied to him, but Link’s nose wrinkles all the same. Champion, like Mipha, Daruk, Revali, Urbosa—no, it doesn’t sit well with him. He may have been one, but it is a title of an age long dead. There are few who refer to him as the Champion still, and they’re all old guard. Anyone else who tries gets a gentle correction: he isn’t the champion, not any longer. Just a traveller, or Zelda’s knight if the situation calls for it.

His distaste isn’t subtle enough to go unnoticed, but thankfully no one asks. “I can ask Fi, just to check, and you can decide a different name if you want,” Sky reassures, sending him a rueful grin. “I got called Chosen Hero, and I didn’t like it at all. I was about to cry in relief when the others settled on Sky for me.”

“Chosen Hero!” repeats Link in disbelief. “That’s a heavy title you bear. Sky fits you much better, I’m glad.”

“The same goes for Hylian Champion.” Hyrule speaks softly, as if to himself, and he flushes when the others turn to look at him. “You seem more lively than where the burdens of a kingdom lie, is all.”

“Yeah!” Wind pipes up, saving him from the sudden attention. He winks at Hyrule, and Link can’t help but feel endeared at the obvious care they hold for each other. “Man, when we get back to my world, Tetra’s gonna love you! She’s always a sucker for good stories, and you act them out and everything. I’m pretty sure you’re older too, and she _and_ Aryll wanted an older sister so it’ll be great!”

Older _sister_. A nagging suspicion begins to bloom, but before he can even begin to consider examining it, Sky interrupts.

“Got it!” He looks so pleased Link immediately forgets his thoughts. “Hero of the Wild. Wild, then. Does that work for you?”

Wild. Link rolls the name on his tongue. _Wild_ rolls the name on his tongue and nods. Grins at the faces grinning right back.

It fits perfectly.


	2. A Sticky Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not like he's a man _all_ the time, but, well. After a while, it can really get to you, and that's coming from someone who thinks of gender as an _accessory_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: misgendering!! no one, like, says the wrong thing to his face explicitly here but he still feels Ugh from it happening offscreen, and everyone refers to him w she/her pronouns while in their pov

At what point is it considered appropriate to tell your travelling companions you’re actually a man, and at what point are you supposed to take the secret to your grave? Wild has no idea and it’s driving him mad with anxiety. He’s kinda waffling towards keeping it a secret forever at this point.

It’s not like he’s a man _all_ the time. He was genuinely just having a lot of girl days at first and so forgot about the problem, and he didn’t bother to correct anyone on a boy day when they happened. But now it’s been a few months, he’s been a boy consistently for at least a week now, and if anyone calls him “she” one more time he thinks he might solve his problem purely through violence and yelling.

This is such a weird problem. He’s used to the opposite in his Hyrule, where he’d be having girl days and be constantly called “young man” or whatever.

The funniest part? He wasn’t even a girl when he first met them. He came straight out of Gerudo Town after talking with Riju on a boy day and didn’t think to correct them, and now look. It’s been months. 

Gender is an awful curse sent down by Hylia Herself for using Her name in vain too often, and now Wild has to reap the consequences. What a vindictive goddess. He endeavors to use it all the more wastefully whenever he has this thought.

Usually it’s not much of an issue. He calls his ever shifting moods “girl days,” “boy days,” “goron days” for the times he feels more neither than anything. Almost always, he feels like… half a gender at most. Like he took a bite out of an apple and found that enough. 

On girl days she fixes in an earring Issha recommended and calls it a day. She hardly ever bothers correcting people, like how the Gorons won’t mind if you call one sister instead of brother. On boy days, he puts in a different kind and knows it’s enough. Even if the Gerudo call him Little Hylian Vai (as they’ve taken to nicknaming him), he feels about the same as he always does. Goron days are the easiest, where they forgo the earrings entirely. There’s the little thrill when someone gets it right, but it’s not a big deal. Link is Link, after all. At his core, no matter if he’s called Wild or Link or Champion, no matter if he’s called a boy or a girl or, once, a hellion menace to society, he’s always solely himself. Gender feels more like an accessory than it does part of his identity.

Except _it’s been months_ , and Wild is going insane. He didn’t realize how much he depended on the occasional slivers of—validation? insightfulness? understanding?—having someone call him correctly. His friends back home knew, at least in few in almost every major settlement, and they always referred to him correctly after checking his ears. 

At the risk of being redundant: Wild has gone months without that. In one go, he solved the problem of being referred to almost solely as a man and ended up with the problem of being referred to solely as a woman.

And now the second problem: how in the name of Hylia (blessed goddess who is the source of all his troubles) is he supposed to tell the others?

“Hey, I know you’ve been under the impression I’m a woman this whole time, but surprise, I’m actually a man! Except it’s not all the time, but today I am and have been for the past week.”

“Could you do me a favor and call me he until I tell you to stop, and to keep doing that if I ever ask again?”

“You know when that man in the town two portals back said to grow some balls and take up his gambling challenge? Might’ve found a solution to that.”

“What’re you muttering to yourself?” Twilight asks, and Wild nearly drops his armful of mushrooms back to the ground with a squeak. He turns with wide eyes to see the rancher raise an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing!”

He gets a disbelieving sigh at that, but he’ll take it. Better Twilight believe he’s planning to dump Goron spice into someone’s bowl than hear what he’s saying before he’s found the words. 

Wild stands up from his crouch, disappearing his haul into the slate. “Did you get the herbs I asked for?” At Twilight’s affirmative, they start heading back to the camp in companionable quiet. They hadn’t wandered too far off, but it’s still a walk back.

It’s Twilight who breaks the silence first. “Say, Wild…” He stops, both verbally and motion-wise, forcing Wild to stop as well. Wild looks up at the man’s face. There’s hesitance writ in the uptick of his mouth, and his gaze is unreadable. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

“Huh? What brought this on?”

“Ah, it’s been a few months since you’ve joined our group, hasn’t it? Got thinking, ‘s all. You’ve got a good heart, so don’t hesitate to let us know if anything’s bothering you.” He reaches out and ruffles Wild’s hair, smile widening into something genuine when Wild protests and pulls back. “You’ve been looking a bit down.”

He… hadn’t realized his mood has been that obvious. Wild looks down and kicks the dirt under his feet, hoping his ears aren’t as red as they feel. A sincere, well-intentioned talk about his feelings? Horrible. Worst experience of his life. “I’ll—” His voice catches. “I’ll be fine, Twi.”

He doesn’t need to look up to know Twilight is giving him that look, the one Wind calls the Big Brother Face. “If you say so. Just know we’ll be willing to listen and support you,” he says, gentle as if Wild is one of his goats. 

Wild runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling warmth and dread in equal amounts prick at him. “Of course.”

And he’s not lying. They’re all kind people at heart. No one will care. _You don’t know that for sure_ , a little nagging voice says. _You lied to them for months_ , another hisses. _Should’ve spoken up earlier_. He can imagine the twinge of hurt in Hyrule’s face, the particular furrow in Legend’s forehead, the way Wind’s smile will drop a little if he tells them he’s been lying for so long and, worse, that they might’ve been hurting him, unintentional though it may be. They’re too kind, is the problem.

It would’ve been one thing if he’d told them earlier. Easier to laugh off, to brush aside as something that hadn’t crossed his mind until just then. Like it wasn’t an intentional farce—it wasn’t! Wild isn’t different at all, not where it matters. Clothing doesn’t factor into it, because he’d wear whatever regardless of gender. Neither does the way he acts, because a sashay is fun to pull off at any time, and as a girl Link has no problem swimming shirtless. He’s just been going with the flow.

It feels like a farce though. He never lied, not really, but he didn’t fix any of their assumptions, didn’t say anything, for months. It’s a lie of omission that sits sour on the back of his tongue.

Twilight clicks his tongue, waiting until Wild looks back up at him to speak. “Is it dangerous? Whatever’s bothering you.” He doesn’t seem stern or any more solemn than earlier, just an open, neutral expression on his face.

Uncomfortable, yes. Dangerous? No, not unless they run into a monster that feeds off conflicted guilt and pent up frustration. Wild shakes his head.

“Then I’m not gonna pry. I’ll keep Time from trying to dad you too, if you want.”

Unbidden, a giggle slips out of Wild. “‘Dad’ me?”

“You didn’t think I’m the only one who’s noticed you’ve been down, did you? I just got first dibs.”

Wild lets himself laugh fully at that, ignoring the stone in his stomach. 

* * *

Warriors flicks his gaze to the campfire, where a still-smiling Wild sits in front of a cooking pot. She and Twilight had returned a while ago, snickering like mischievous children while sneaking looks to Time. Old Man’s probably going to get some nasty purple chu jelly in his dinner tonight, he’s assuming. A bit of a surprise she’s got Twilight in on it, though. 

It’s good to see that Wild’s in a better mood than before. She’s been… not sullen, but a tension none of them can ease has been sitting on her shoulders for a few weeks now. There’s nothing obvious that brought it on, but it’s heavy enough that even Legend will have worry flashing across his face whenever Wild pulls away from their group with no indication as to why.

“She’ll say something when she’s ready to,” he hears Twilight murmur to Time. They’ve got some mentor/mentee plan going on to get Wild out of her mood. Successful, he supposes; she’s been dropping off into frowns whenever left alone in her thoughts for too long, but right now she’s almost definitely brightened up enough to pull a prank.

Still, he can’t help but scoot over to insert himself into the conversation. “It’s not anything dangerous, right?” He trusts that she would tell them if it were; Wild is the least team friendly player in their group, but she’s got enough sense in her to know what’s necessary.

Twilight shakes his head. “Confirmed it wasn’t.” Here he hesitates, and his words come out slow, deliberate. “I’m not sure if it’s… one of her memories? I don’t remember there being one before she started acting weird, but it might’ve come as a dream.”

Warriors purses his lips, thinking. It _could_ be. He’s certainly entertained the thought before. Wild doesn’t fall into a memory too often, but they’re hard to hide, so everyone became aware of her amnesia and subsequent flashbacks sooner than later. Almost always she’ll draw into herself a bit, hidden away in a large cloak until the world stopped being too loud and bright for her, and even then Wild would still be withdrawn until something coaxed her out of her shell.

It doesn’t feel like it, though.

He takes another look at Twilight’s face. It says it all. “You don’t think that’s it.”

The rancher really is a farm boy through and through, honest as the day is long. “I overheard her talking to herself earlier, but I’m not sure what I heard and it’s not my place to say anyway.”

A sigh, and Time hauls himself up to his feet. “Then we wait,” he says decisively. They watch him amble over and strike a conversation with Four about the forest they’ve landed in. Twilight goes back to sharpening his sword.

Warriors’s mind is still stuck on Wild, though, and he’d bet a bag of rupees so is Twilight’s.

He prides himself on being a good commander. Quick to judge a situation and quick to notice if anything is wrong, able to lead squadrons of forces with only minutes to prepare. Often, his command was too numerous for him to know everyone, but he did his best to be there for anyone who needed it. Perhaps it’s foolish of him—too many faces, half-familiar from life, unmistakable in death haunt him to this day—but he refuses to give up caring. It hurts, but to hurt is to be alive, and he carries his ghosts with him even as he locks eyes with a new trainee.

Here, their motley group is a lot smaller than the armies he used to command. He’s never been an older brother before, but he finds himself falling into it naturally. It’s easy to tug on the back of Hyrule’s tunic to keep him from wandering off, normal to nudge Four and encourage him to keep talking about smithing, effortless to pull Wind into a friendly scuffle. With Wild, he finds himself looking after her like it’s instinct.

Maybe it’s because she’s still young at heart. The scars riddling her face and body age her up years, but there’s something heartwrenchingly childlike about the way she’ll wander off from the group to catch a bug or pick a plant, not understanding why they’ll scold her to stick with them. She’ll often show her finds off, grinning like there aren’t a million twigs in her hair and mud on her face.

It’s painful to see someone like that pull away without any indication as to why.

He sighs, leaning back on his palms to look at the evening sky. The brightest stars are beginning to shine, flickering around the rising moon. The smell of sweetly roasted vegetables wash over him. Quick headcount: Sky and Wind sparring; Twilight sitting nearby; Legend checking their perimeter, Hyrule with him; Four and Time talking about where to go; Wild at the campfire, standing up and stretching.

“Dinner’s ready!” she announces, loud enough that Legend and Hyrule should hear. Without waiting, she begins pulling out plates from her slate and spooning out portions. Warriors watches her closely enough that he sees the glob of something purple being hidden under some greens.

_Definitely_ purple chu jelly from Twilight.

It travels down the line, Warriors hesitating before handing it off to Time, who’s last. It’s all in good fun though, and Wild’s figured out (after much trial-and-error) how to make sure the jelly doesn’t kill anyone, so he keeps quiet, only checking his own plate to make sure he’s not going to be a victim as well. Wild catches his eye and winks. Twilight, across the campfire, has a little feral edge to his grin.

Warriors watches with bated breath as Time takes a scoop of his food. It’s riveting, seeing his expression go from pleased and content to I-will-kill-whoever-did-this. Reminds him of the little pissed off kid he knew before meeting him again as an adult.

Time raises his head to glare balefully at Wild. “Why did you do this.” It falls flat of being a question.

“Do what?” Wild asks back, eyes wide and confused. “I thought you liked carrots?”

Wind giggles into his own meal, shoveling another bite into his mouth when that earns him an unamused look. “I didn’ do nothin’!” he protests before Time even starts saying the accusation. “Yer face wa’ funny.”

“Don’t talk while chewing,” Sky reminds him. “Time, what’s wrong with it? Mine tastes fine?”

Without speaking, Time takes another scoop and presents the purple chuchu glob. The camp falls into hysterics, speaking all at once.

“Some weird seasoning you’ve got there, Old Man.”

“Are you going to need a potion?”

“Where did someone even get their hands on that?”

Warriors sits back, letting the rambunctious laughter and chatter surround him. Wind denies it some more, pointing to Hyrule, who was apparently looking at Time’s dinner too intently. Hyrule denies it right back, pushing the blame to someone else too. There’s shouts of protest as accusations go flying. He tunes it out, just smiling to himself. A small prank, but a big reception. It’s nice to see spirits so high, especially Wild’s.

He’s too busy feeling reassured at Wild’s bright, impish grin that he nearly misses the accusation thrown at _him_.

“—paused before giving it to Time, too.” Legend says this nonchalantly, but one’d have to be blind to miss the smirk he shoots Warriors as he says it. “Seems suspicious to me.”

Twilight makes a faux thoughtful noise, failing to hide his laughter as Warriors whips his head around to stare in betrayal. “He was rummaging through our bags earlier, could’ve taken it from mine or Wild’s packs then.”

Warriors splutters, “I was taking inventory! You know, the thing I do every other night?”

There’s a little gasp from Four, too theatrical to be natural. “He was staring at Time when we started eating too…”

Betrayal! Ganged up on by the miserable lot he dared call his brothers!

Clearly they’ve figured out it wasn’t him. Wild’s just about collapsed with laughter at the sight of his panicked face, but it’s obvious no one wants to spoil her fun. Time gives him the sternest, most I-am-your-father-listen-to-me face he can muster and says, “What do you have to say for yourself, Warriors? Why would you put purple chu jelly in this delightful meal Wild worked hard on?”

Warriors is speechless. Wild titters, looks up to see Time raising an eyebrow at Warriors, and breaks back out into gleeful wheezing. Wind and Legend don’t seem to be far off, delighted at his misfortune. 

Golden goddesses, the things he does for family. “You’ve done it,” he says, strangled, “you’ve caught me in my dastardly tricks. Oh woe is me, what punishment will I be given?” Sky is the next to break, hiding his laughter behind a hand.

Time, the little snot, looks at him with thin, disappointed lips and mirth dancing in his eyes. “This,” he intones gravely. The purple chu jelly jumps from his spoon and smacks into Warriors’s face.

Even Twilight is losing it now.

“ARGH!” he squawks, not expecting Time to actually go through with it. It’s to the others’ cackling that he slumps to the ground, groaning at the sticky feeling on his cheek. He can deal with a little grossness (no matter what Legend says), but it’s not a nice feeling when he could be clean and not sticky. 

Someone hands him a clean cloth. Hyrule, bless his heart. It’s one of Twilight’s cloths, so he feels no guilt in scrubbing off the jelly and throwing it at the traitor himself. Twilight takes the assault with a grin, the infectious mood lingering even as the laughter calms down.

“Here.” A scarred hand dips into view, and Wild refills Warriors’s bowl with some fried greens fresh from the pot. Steam rises up lazily. She smiles at him through it, cheerful and alive like she hasn’t been for the past week, and he instantly forgives her for pulling him into her prank.

He takes a bite and sighs. Fresh, still sweet yet crispy from quickly frying it. “Delicious as ever,” he compliments, trying to force some grudge into his tone. Wild sees right through him and beams wider. “Oh, shove off.” He wipes a hand, still a little sticky with goo, across her nose, grinning himself when she shrieks a little in delight.

“Be careful, mister, or else the goo’s going in _your_ meal next!” she teases before scampering off to her own meal.

It’s sometime after dinner that Time approaches him. “Thank you for playing along.”

Across the clearing, Wild’s wide grin has dropped to a faint upturn of her lips. She’s scuffling with Wind and the large wolf that follows their group every now and then, trying to claim a sleeping spot. She’s happy, and after the past week of halfhearted interaction, it feels like everything.

“Ah, it’s nothing.”

* * *

The sun’s rays are beginning to skim past the treetops when Wild wakes up. Legend notices immediately; there isn’t anything hostile in the area, so he’s been sitting closer to camp for the past hour now. He doesn’t say anything when she sneaks out—at least, not at first. When she doesn’t return after 10 minutes, 20, he shakes Twilight awake to keep watch before following.

She hasn’t gone far, just within hearing range if someone shouts. Legend stands at the treeline, watching her pull and put back different earrings from that slate of hers. Studs, hoops, drops, different fashions he can’t name, all reflective of masterful craftsmanship. They gleam in the early morning light as she holds each pair up for examination.

“You can choose today’s accessories from the camp, you know,” he calls out. Wild, to her credit, doesn’t react other than her shoulders raising a few centimeters. “Pretty sure Wind won’t try stealing them.”

That earns a short laugh. “He wouldn’t dare unless he wants his breakfast burned. Besides, I’m just… trying to decide how I feel today. Hard to do that around that noisy lot.”

Legend stops in his tracks. Normally he’d like to tease, but there’s something brittle about her voice. “Want me to leave then?” he offers. He may be a prick, but he’s not about to inflict his presence on someone who needs some time alone.

Finally, Wild turns to look at him. “No, stay,” she says, and even she looks surprised at how firmly she says it. She pats the stone next to her. “C’mon, sit with me for a while.”

It’s nice and quiet in the spot Wild’s chosen. He sits with his back to her, not wanting to crowd. Faintly, the tittering of birds sweeten the air, and if he closes his eyes and focuses he can smell the rich petrichor lingering from yesterday’s early evening rain. Wild goes back to picking out earrings, the faint chime of her slate’s magic rhythmic in its repetition.

It’s like this often, Legend finds. They’re both pretty silent people on their own, and perhaps not as close as they are with some of the others. Sure, they jibe and bicker, but to avoid too much tension they end up not seeking each other out. Legend isn’t even sure if he wants to be close to Wild anyway; she’s almost guaranteed to die violently young and violently so, given her track record of scars and reckless combat techniques.

Still, his treacherous heart cares, and he heaves a sigh as he thinks of her recent melancholy. A conversation wouldn’t hurt, right?

“You’ve been wearing a lot of stud earrings lately,” he says. He doesn’t turn to look, but the chiming stops. “Maybe one of those dangling ones? The amber gems give a nice glow to you.”

Quietly, so faint he almost misses it, Wild replies back, “...Maybe.” He risks a glance to guess her expression; she’s staring distantly at her hands, eyes locked on a struggle Legend can’t see. “Change things up a little, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, though she doesn’t see it. “You don’t have to go with my suggestion,” he points out. “If you want to wear studs, wear studs. They get tangled up less in the twigs and branches you insist on jumping headfirst into, at any rate.” 

“And if I don’t want to wear any at all?”

What an odd question. Legend fully turns around to squint at her. “Then _don’t_? What, am I missing some watchmen that will arrest you if you don’t put some metal in your ears?”

Wild huffs a laugh at that, but it’s half hearted. “No, I don’t think so. Don’t mind me, I’m just overthinking things.”

“Overthinking… types of earrings?” He doesn’t mean to sound so doubtful, but Wild is both a ridiculous fashionista and someone who could not care less for her appearance. She’s got a multitude of outfits, sure, but she’s never exactly cared if they matched or how she looked as a result (leading to a very distressing time where she sprinted through Twilight’s Castletown wearing her Barbarian shorts, clunky torso armor that glowed, and an odd mask that looked like a fish was eating her head. He’s pretty sure they’re banned from the inn for life).

She shakes her head. “No, forget it, it’s… related, but it’s not—” This time, her head shake is harsher, more aggressive. “It’s got some meaning for me,” she reveals reluctantly under Legend’s interrogating stare. “What type of earrings I wear, I mean.”

He considers this, lining it up with the past week. He almost wants to ask “why would you ever wear earrings that make you feel horrible?”, but obviously that isn’t an option. Choosing wearing a specific type probably isn’t an option she has, either. Something dictates the type she wears regardless of how she feels, but how could a type of earrings make one feel bad…?

Hylia, this is giving Legend a headache.

“Are the earrings hurting you?” he settles on asking. There’s no way he’s getting the full story out of her anytime soon, but the important answers need to be established first.

“Wh—? No, they’re fine.”

“Do they upset you? Is that why you’ve been weird this past week?”

“... it’s not the earrings, not really. Kind of? It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it, then.”

He gets a jab to the side for that. “I don’t know how to,” she admits, bitterness sharpening her tongue. “I’m working on it, okay? I’m… I’ll be fine, just give me some time to figure it out.”

Legend jabs her right back, tickling her sides for good measure and ignoring her squeak. “Well, figure it out faster,” he says drolly. “Whatever it is you’ve got going in your head can’t be that bad, considering it’s mostly empty in the first place.”

Now _that_ earns him a tackle right off the rock, and they tussle around like children for a few minutes before wordlessly agreeing to stop, flopping onto the grass to stare at the brightening sky. Neither of them are breathing very hard, but Legend thinks he can hear Wild’s become lighter, less burdened. He bites his tongue to focus his thoughts. 

“Just wear whatever you feel like wearing, you menace. If it’s not the earrings making you feel bad, then deal with whatever is making you act like a kicked puppy.” He kicks out blindly and catches her ankle. “If it’s one of us, or something we’re doing, or, I don’t know, maybe you’re just allergic to the grass here, tell us. If it’s something from your past, then however you deal with it is up to you, but between the nine of us we’ve got all sorts of trauma covered, it’ll be easy to commiserate with someone.”

He rolls over to speak and finds her already looking at him. “ _Uncomplicate_ it. Whatever it is, either you’ll get past this or you won’t, but things will only get worse if you let it stagnate.”

Wild breaks eye contact first, sitting up but gaze fixed low. At this angle, he can’t see her face. “Get it over with, basically. I guess that’s good advice.”

The sky looks bright enough that the others are probably awake by now. “Of course it is,” he says. She’s not going to take it, at least not right now, he can tell. “Decide on the earrings yet?”

Clacks of fingernail against glass. The now-familiar chime of the Sheikah slate. “Studs again today.”

“Amber?”

“Amber, yeah. You made a good point.”

“I always make good points.”

A snort, and they fall back into silence. It feels like a moment in eternity before Wild speaks up again. “We should make it back to camp.” She sounds almost regretful, and Legend feels it too. The area is warm and peaceful, and it feels like a crime to have to spend the entire day trekking their way through an adventure no one signed up for. 

Neither of them move. He closes his eyes, feeling the morning sun warm his skin.

“Legend?”

It takes a moment to respond, the siren call of sleep beginning to pull at his senses. “Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He hums, not resisting the lull of the little bubble they’re in. “No problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha!! my 30 minute presentation is in like 6 hours!! my writing pace is beginning to slow down bc i have less to frantically procrastinate on but dw guys, this seminar is about to kick my ass. still, probably will be awhile until next update, bc im struggling with sky
> 
> ;;w;; thank u for all the good response so far!! hope yall like this update <33


	3. Food for thought (and for the stomach)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A respite at Lon Lon Ranch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again on Misgendering, The Fic: cw misgendering!!! 
> 
> sorry for the slow update i am just a very slow writer and even this is faster than ive done for the past few years. hope yall enjoy :>
> 
> (shoutout thank u avivi for looking over the malon section for me, if ur like "wow these sentences flow so nicely", its bc she was kind enough to fix it up for me)

Time wakes up, comfort breathing peacefully in his arms. It’s a slow awakening, drowsiness pulling at his eyes even as the morning sun starts shining past a crack in the curtains. The scented oils in Malon’s hair tickles his nose, and he finds himself smiling into her neck.

A familiar calloused hand runs up and down his spine, Time stretching and twisting a little to let it scratch at all the good spots. Malon laughs, quiet in the morning calm. “Awake yet, fairy boy?”

“Mmm.” He sighs, nosing at warm skin. “Five more minutes?”

The hand skims his nape to stroke at his hair. “Five more minutes.”

It’s probably closer to a full hour before he rouses himself again. Malon is missing this time, though the bed next to him is still a little warm. He follows the peals of laughter into the kitchen, fondness welling up his chest to see Wild and Malon stomping around the kitchen in what he thinks is a dance popular among knights, Warriors having a much worse time of leading Wind around than Wild is with Malon. Twilight sits at the table, a fond smile curling his eyes.

Twilight’s the first one to notice he’s awake. “You sure took your time waking up this morning, Old Man,” he teases. “You feeling your age?”

“What can I say,” Time says back, not rising to the bait, “I missed the comforts of my wife’s bed.”

Legend, walking in, smacks him in the sternum. “Don’t brag, Sky’s lovedrunk as is,” he complains, sleep still rounding his vowels. “Talked my ear off last night about building a house for his Zelda, it was like someone switched out his chamomile for mate.”

He laughs, just imagining the normally lethargic teen up all night with hearts in his eyes. Malon swings around at the sound, the bright grin he loves spreading across her face. “Morning, sleepyhead. You didn’t even wake up at my good morning kiss earlier, you must’ve been tired.” She unlinks arms with Wild to make her way over, and leaning down to meet her kiss is as natural as it is missed.

“Well, lucky for me I get a second chance, hm?” 

With one last small, lingering press of her lips to his chin, Malon draws back and pats him in the chest. “You’re lucky you woke up in time for breakfast, too. None of the others are awake yet, so could you go get them while the food’s still hot?”

“I’ll do that,” Wild pipes up. She hangs back near the counter, smiling at the scene. “This nuisance,”—pointing at Wind—”got grease on me earlier, so I need to change clothes anyway.” Sure enough, a large dark stain sticks her undertunic to skin.

“Wha? It was Warriors, not me!” 

As Wind and Warriors start to bicker over who _really_ knocked into Wild during their “dancing”, Malon taps her chin in thought. Time raises an eyebrow at her. “Rupee for your thoughts?”

“On second thought, you stay here, set the table for me.” She bustles away and pulls Wild by the arm. “Here, pumpkin, let’s go together, I’ll show you where you can wash up a little if you’d like.”

Hmm. Time blinks after the two, feeling bemused, but he’s quick to shrug it off. Malon will tell him if it’s anything important. “C’mon, boys, you heard the miss, set the table.” He shows them where the plates are, smacking a few eager hands with a filched spoon whenever they sneak too close to the food. They have everything set up soon enough, with more awake than not—Four wanders in from outside the house, lured in by the good smell, and the only ones still asleep are Hyrule and Sky.

He can’t blame them. They’d been travelling hard the past few days, barely having enough time to rest between being ambushed by monsters. It had felt like a last stand, taking them all out on a cliffside in a world none of them could recognize; it could’ve been one if it weren’t for the rockfall Legend and Wild managed to trigger, taking out a good portion of their enemies. The portal afterwards, peering into Lon Lon Ranch, felt like a blessing.

They should probably all be in bed, he reflects. Even after a couple potions and a serving of hearty food, he still feels the phantom ache of wounds all over, exhaustion nestled in his bones, and he wasn’t even the most banged up of the lot. It’s not like any of them to sit still, though, so it’s not surprising that they’re all awake.

“G’morning,” Hyrule yawns as he enters the kitchen, a sluggish Sky clinging to his sleeve. Neither of their eyes seem to be open. Malon and Wild follow closely after, little smiles on their faces, Wild in one of Malon’s smaller dresses. It’s a surprise to see her in such feminine homely wear, honestly; Wild is as rough-and-tumble as any of them (arguably the _most_ of them), and her clothes usually reflect that. Tough leather often, thick cloth meant for travel near always, outfits tailored for men more than half the time. Time almost expects her to rip the dress somehow before the day is over.

_Do I want to know?_ he asks Malon with his eyes. She winks back, but shakes her head. Nothing serious, then.

Breakfast is warm and filling. He’s missed the taste of home, the simple pleasures in a farmer’s meal. Wild doesn’t aim for extravagance in her cooking, but her world’s magic seems to be almost entirely in its food, and ingredients can be so different from what he’s used to at home that it feels like dining with Zelda. Even foraged materials from the others’ worlds seem to take magical qualities in her hands, turning all her meals into something divine. Here, Malon’s touch is in every bite he takes, homely and familiar. 

The comfort of love, he supposes. Food from the home will always be better than from even the royal kitchens.

“No no, sit back down,” Malon admonishes when Twilight moves to gather their plates. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you massaging your shoulder when you walked in this morning. Wind, be a dear…?”

“On it!”

It’s to half hearted protests that Malon announces none of them are to help with work. “At least for today,” she decides. “I could sweep you boys off your feet right now, forget what a monster could do. Just rest, relax a little. Surely that’s something great heroes can do.”

“You could sweep us off our feet any day,” Time points out, and she rolls her eyes as she thumps his chest with the back of her hand.

“Don’t get sassy on me now.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Sky and Warriors, at least, make good on their promises to rest, with one dozing off on the dining table and the other heading for an actual bed. Wind focuses on the _relaxing_ part, grabbing Hyrule by the arm to explore the ranch properly—something about pigs and the apple trees. Legend is about to follow when Twilight takes one look at his limp and declares them _both_ , with a strong emphasis, ready to relax by fishing at the nearby stream.

On the more productive end of things, Four heads off to continue his weapon maintenance from that morning, promising Malon on avoiding anything too strenuous. Wild goes back to the kitchen proper with her slate in hand and determination in her eyes, which means they’ll have their potions restocked, more baked goods than they can eat in a lifetime, or she’s going to try cooking with gemstones again. At least the kitchen and dining area is connected so Time can keep an eye on her as he works on cleaning the table of spills.

Like this, Time can almost let himself dream of an idyllic life, unburdened by war and violence. Somewhere outside, Malon is singing to the horses, soothing and sweet, and he can hear Twilight and Legend talking as they head out with fishing equipment. The air is light with the smell of the sugar Wild pulls out of her slate, chimes accompanying the flash of blue light signalling materialization. She hums along to Malon’s melody drifting through the window, and Time has to close his eyes against the sudden ache of longing that clutches his heart.

It’s at times like these he’s most reminded: Hylia may not be a malicious goddess, but she is one of the cruelest.

“You okay?” Wild’s worried voice breaks through his thoughts, and he opens his eyes to see her half twisted to look at him, spoon mid-air heaped with flour. “You did one of those sighs like you’re actually 60.”

“Mock me too much about my age and I’ll talk about you as the hundred-something year old you are,” he threatens, words belying the treacherous smile creeping up. Malon had laughed herself silly last night, remembering the accusations leveled at his age. Wild doesn’t hide her own at all, and it’d be nice to see someone else bear the group’s teasing. “We should be making fun of _you_ for your age, you’ve even been sighing like you’re ancient lately.”

For a moment, he thinks he’s overstepped—Wild stiffens, lips pursed, before relaxing and turning back to making dough. “I have, haven’t I,” she says, sounding rueful. “Sorry about that—hey!”

Time stares her down, flicking his wet cloth at her again. “Don’t be sorry,” he says firmly. He pats her shoulder, trying to offset the sudden change in mood that’s settled over them. “Something’s been eating at you and no one can blame you for unrest.”

All he gets in reply is a hum and one of the ancient-sounding sighs she’s been heaving so often as of late. He stands there, watching her measure out flour and sugar, the tiniest sliver of salt crushed and thrown into the bowl as well. “I don’t want to worry anyone,” she says, hushed like it’s a secret. “Legend said to just get it over with, but I—I want to, but… I don’t know, I just—”

Her hands fidget and curl, darting to the slate to pull out some butter. “You’re not ready yet,” he says, not as gentle as he is understanding, and her shoulders slump to hear it. “That’s alright, you know. Things happen in their own time, and you’re allowed your own pace to life.”

“I should be ready, though,” she insists miserably. The knife she uses cuts through frozen butter with more force than is actually needed, sharp thuds carried out the open window. “I’ll feel a lot better afterwards, I know I will.”

“Hm. So tell me, then,” he offers, and Wild freezes like she was hit by an ice chuchu.

“...I,” she starts. Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out, and she lets out a long, shuddering exhale. “I’m not…”

Time gives her another minute to try. She doesn’t continue, knife resuming its motions to dice little cubes quickly, unhappily. “You’re not ready yet,” he repeats, softer. As kind as he can make the words, to not cut with the pressure of failure, but firm. “Allow yourself forgiveness for it.”

Her lips thin, but she doesn’t protest.

Judging the moment to be over, he pats her on the shoulder again. “Though if there’s anyone who needs to be sorry, it’s me for bringing up the topic.” He cuts her off when she protests. “You were in a good mood before, now you’re acting your real age again,” he teases, feeling a spark of warmth at the roll of her eyes.

“Keep that up and I’m going to call seniority over you, fairy _boy_ ,” she jibes back, starting out weak but getting stronger with each word. Wild throws her head back in laughter at the exaggerated scowl he makes, her long earrings swinging like windchimes with the motion. She doesn’t manage to duck in time when he cuffs her over the head, ruffling her hair hard enough that half of it falls out of her ponytail. 

Her playful squawking as she tries to bat away his hands is loud; Warriors shuffles into the room to tell them to shut up and gets enlisted in helping Wild with her pie crust for his trouble. As Time goes to core and slice apples, ordered by Wild through _seniority_ , he lets the atmosphere wash over him again. Wild’s and Warriors’s squabbling, the sweetness of nicked butter lingering on his tongue—he even thinks he can hear Wind and Hyrule chattering with Malon, getting louder by the minute.

Things may not be perfect, but here in this moment, he thinks they might all be okay. Not even Hylia can take away this slice of peacefulness.

* * *

She had lent Wild one of her dresses earlier in the morning. Malon’s a pretty woman, not as young as the girl in front of her, but young enough that men look her way whenever she travels to town without her husband on her arm (and sometimes even with). She knows what it feels like to have eyes on her, and Wild’s had been on her all morning. 

It had only taken a few glances for her to realize that the gaze was focused on her dress rather than her person, so it was hardly a thought before she offered one for Wild to borrow—”I doubt you get much opportunity to wear one often, adventuring as you are,” she’d said. “Pants have their own appeal, but I think you might want to have a twirl at this, so to speak.”

Back then Wild had been bashfully delighted, spinning in circles and watching the skirt flare around her, hair getting tangled in her long earrings as she spun round and round. 

As if continuing the chaos of Wild’s earlier spinning, the dress is now covered in flour patches, sticky apple seeds dotting a sleeve. Looking beneath the hem of the dress, apple cores have wound up all over the floor as an addition to the mess. 

If it weren’t for the fact Malon had walked past the apple trees on her way back, she’d surely think Wild had picked them all dry. In fact, she’s still not sure the girl hasn’t. 

Wild takes one look at her expression and squeaks, pink creeping across her face. “We may have… gotten carried away…” Her husband, dusted in flour and looking all too smug about it, laughs. Warriors, next to him, absolutely _covered_ in flour and having the most exasperated expression, mutters something uncomplimentary about food fights.

Malon puts her hands on her hips and surveys the kitchen, glancing over the battle-splattered parts.

There’s apple cider in a pot, a damp cheesecloth still full in a bowl next to it. At least ten apple pies are sitting on the counter neighboring a tray of cooling apple tarts. Baked apples sit neatly arranged on a plate. Even _more_ apples litter the dining table, probably for yet another treat; Wild herself is at the stove, mixing what smells to be caramel.

“Where did you get so many apples?” Malon asks, baffled. With a fully flushed face, Wild takes the caramel off the stove and rushes to show her a strange slab that lights up under her hands. With a few swipes—images flickering underneath like a river—she points to a small, realistic drawing of apples. The number next to it is in the hundreds.

“There’s not a lot of people to pick all the apples back home,” Wild explains sheepishly, flashing a knowing smile at Malon’s disbelief. “I can keep them in the Sheikah Slate for as long as I need without them going bad, so I pick most of the ones I find that are far from settlements and hand them out when extra food’s needed. Baked goods are easy to sell, too, so…” she trails off.

“Her pies are probably the main reason we have enough rupees for potions these days,” Link says, pride infused in his voice like he’s showing off his own daughter. It’s adorable, and Malon has to hide her laughter behind a hand. He even clasps a hand to Wild’s shoulder like a father would. Honestly, it would fit with the way he worries after her.

Wild shows her how the slate dissolves the tarts into strands of light before rematerializing with a flash. “Comes out the exact same as I put it in, so I still have to let it cool before I store it away.”

That explains the absolute bakery her kitchen’s been turned into. Malon tuts in thought, curling a finger to her lip. “Keep two of those pies out, if you don’t mind,” she tells Wild. “We can have that after dinner—I’ll have to get started on that soon, since there’s so many people.” When Wild brightens, she knows she’ll have a helper.

The cooking process isn’t especially difficult, just on a larger scale than her usual. After Link and Warriors help clean up the worst of the mess, Wild helps proportion the meal out like she did earlier in the morning, already used to cooking for nine. She pulls out ingredients Malon both knows and doesn’t, describing all of their different properties and uses with solid confidence and breathless excitement. Malon lets her take control of the menu, curious to know how her husband’s been eating while away on his adventure.

"The others are lucky to have a skilled, young lass like you to look out for them," she muses after Wild explains all the different things the others can't or won't eat. Her Link isn't very picky at all, aside from his dislike of well water, but she discovers that Twilight won't eat much meat, Wind can't have a lot of cow milk, and so on and so on. It's good to hear that the group's self-assigned cook can keep track of it all.

Wild falters a little in her motions, laughing to herself before her smile is back in place. "Pretty sure they'd have scurvy if it weren't for me," she quips. More quietly, to herself: "I'm lucky to have them too."

A warmth settles into Malon's chest. She has no doubt that the group of them are fond of each other, travelling and adventuring together as they are, but if her husband's anything to go by, they rarely say it in words. It's obvious to anyone who cares to pay attention, though. It's in the way Wild memorizes all the things they can't eat and what foods are their favorites. It's in the way Twilight, years and centuries down in the family tree as he is, soaks up praises from Link like they're from his own father. It's in the way her husband murmurs his worries under their blankets at night, entrusting her with the cracks in his armor.

And, well. Malon's always wanted a large family. Maybe this is an unconventional way of getting kids, but Link had taken them into his heart, and so will she.

She bumps her hip against Wild's, smiling as she knocks the girl out of her thoughts. “Then it’s a good thing you’ve all found each other,” she says. “When I was younger, I wanted siblings, did you know? That sort of companionship isn’t something easily found.”

“Siblings!” Wild exclaims, a heady breath of laughter rushing out. “That’s what we call ourselves in towns. Wind tried calling Ti—Link our dad, once, because the inn lady thought we were kids running away from home I think, but then she said there’s no way he could be. She said,” and here she leans in close, giggles spilling between each whisper, “that tall child may look terrible, but he can’t pass as old enough to trick me! And then she asked us where our parents were!”

Malon takes exactly one moment to imagine her husband’s face at that accusation and starts wheezing with laughter herself.

She imagines the scowl on his face, replacing it with the pout he pulls whenever he gets flustered and confused—Link, with his hint of babyface that sticks around even after years of adventure and work, conflict written on his forehead because how are you supposed to respond to being called a _tall terrible-looking child_?

Goddesses above, she’s going to tease him for years over this. First accused of being 60, now being accused of being a child? She’s never letting this go.

Wild continues talking even as Malon wipes tears from her eyes, more pensive this time, giggles fading to air. “He does seem like a dad to us, though,” she says, reflective in a way that suggests she’s thinking out loud. Her grin turns lopsided, sheepish. “I almost feel sorry for how much trouble we cause him.”

“Oh, he loves it,” Malon says without even having to think about it. She can see it in every interaction, every hidden smile at a prank or particularly exciting story. Even if he hadn’t already told her, Malon knows her husband well enough to clock that brand of humor and fondness. “He cares for you all a lot, you know. I bet he wouldn’t trade knowing you for the world.”

Wild huffs, the bare bones of a laugh. “He’d have to, in order to have gotten this far without snapping and killing us all.” She pauses, like she’s considering something. Malon busies herself with chopping the vegetables they’d chosen upon earlier, giving Wild time to settle her thoughts. Beside her, Wild begins preparing the meat.

_You know one Link, you know them all_ , she reflects. Hers has the same habit of silence when choosing his words.

“We talked, earlier today,” Wild starts, hesitation curling over each word. “I’ve been worrying him—and the others too, probably. Haven’t had my head screwed on right.” Malon hums to show that she’s listening. “He said I don’t have to talk about it if I’m not ready, but I _want_ to talk about it.”

“Will you be okay if you do?” Malon asks.

Wild wets her lips nervously, falling silent. Her hands go through the motion of slicing cuts of meat, but her focus is turned inward. If it weren’t for the fact Malon saw her chopping through ham while fending off Wind’s and Warriors’s antics that morning, she’d be worried Wild might accidentally slice her hand off.

Quietly, so quiet Malon almost misses it, Wild admits, “I think it’ll be easier with you. I don’t mean to be rude, I’m grateful for all you’ve done for us—”

“But I’m not as close as the others,” Malon guesses. “Less risky, right?”

Wild nods, looking abash.

“Well, that’s fine, then,” she says. From the corner of her eye, she sees Wild startle, looking up at her with wide eyes. Casually, not returning the gaze, she continues, “You can use me for practice, if you want, for talking to the others.”

“... thank you.”

Silence settles over them, and it’d almost be content if it weren’t for the undercurrent of nerves. Wild’s anxiety is nearly a physical thing, and it takes everything in Malon to stay focused on her task. If she looks over, adds even another ounce of pressure, there’s a chance Wild will retreat back into her head.

The words burst out of Wild like she was holding a snake between her teeth. “So I’m not a girl—well, I am, kind of—I’m a girl right now, but not always. All the others, they call me she, her, miss, they all know me as a girl, which is weird but cool, I guess, because in my Hyrule most people think I’m a boy, but—” She sucks in a deep breath. “I’m _not_ one,” she finishes off, wretched with pent up emotions yet still insistent. “Not all the time, at least.”

Malon has turned around to stare in surprise at the flood of an explanation, and Wild squirms beneath her gaze. It takes a moment to parse through all the words, but hardly a second to realize what the kid needs; she puts down her knife and the radish she had been slicing and opens her arms. Wild gets it immediately, almost slamming her with the force of the hug.

They just rock back and forth for a minute, Wild breathing shakily while Malon processes. “So,” she says, “I don’t really think I caught all that, but you looked like you needed a hug. You’re a girl, but not all the time?”

There’s a miserable nod against her shoulder, and Wild pulls back a little. Only a little, not enough to leave the hug. She doesn’t look Malon in the eye, seemingly enraptured by the folds of her shawl. “Sometimes I feel like a girl, other times like a boy. Or neither. Like a goron.”

She’s starting to see the problem. “And you want to be referred to by the way you feel, right?”

Another nod. Malon hums, tightening her grip until Wild relaxes back into her, blond hairs tickling Malon’s nose. “Is it a secret?”

Wild tenses up in Malon’s arms. “No. Yes. No? It’s not meant to be,” she mutters unsurely. “I didn’t mean to hide it, but I didn’t know how to bring it up, and now I’m sc—I don’t want them to think I was trying to trick them, or that I don’t trust them. I’m just awkward and forgetful.”

Unbidden, Malon snorts. From her viewpoint, she can just barely see the tips of Wild’s ears redden. “I am! I meant to tell them at first, but then on boy days or goron days I didn’t know what to say, and it didn’t bother me much back then, and I’d always forget on girl days. And then I didn’t know how to bring it up at all because it’d been _months_.”

She pats Wild’s back sympathetically. “Well, we can work on it together, how about that? You can bounce ideas off of me about how to approach the topic.” Carefully, she works on untangling them, being gentle so Wild can cling on longer if she needs it. “You could tell me more about it, if you don’t mind explaining, but we should probably get back to cooking in the meanwhile.”

“Oh!” Wild flushes. “I forgot that’s what we’re supposed to be doing, sorry.”

“No matter,” Malon says, patting the dear girl on the cheek. “We still have plenty of time, and between the two of us, I bet we can knock Link’s socks off.”

Wild’s smile is a pitiful, wavering thing, but it’s happy in a way Malon thinks she’s never seen from the hero before. “Thank you,” she starts to say, but Malon waves her off.

“Don’t thank me yet, we still need to figure out how to bring this up to the boys,” she says, turning back to the food resting on the counter.

“You’ve already done so much,” Wild persists. “It feels like—like there’s a weight off my chest. It was kind of you to listen to me, I know my explanation wasn’t that good. And it was kind of you to lend me your own dress, and it’s kind of you to help me even further.” There’s a pause, and her arms quickly dart in to squeeze around Malon’s waist. “ _Thank_ _you_.”

Malon smiles, patting a scarred hand. “No problem, pumpkin.”

* * *

Today, by (voting) (cheating!) (strategic bribery) (winning fair and square) democratic decision making, Four is a girl.

_You’ve gotten the gender for too long, it’s my turn now!_

_I’m not arguing against that, but did you have to tell Red we’d have the monster cake next time Wild brings it out? We’re going to feel sick for hours!_

Four sighs, bringing a head up to rub her temple. They get so _loud_ when it comes to the surprise gender elections. Green usually sides with whoever hasn’t gotten a turn lately, so they’re the quietest, but Red is easy to bribe. So, so easy to bribe, and that irks Vio, so he gets louder, and Blue gets louder back to egg him on because of course she does. It gives her a headache.

“That concussion still bothering you?” Four looks up to see Legend frowning down at her. “I thought the potion healed it already.” They’re sitting outside on the shore of the stream that runs near the ranch. Twilight dozes under the tree further up the bank, fishing rod discarded in favor of a nap. After Four had done what she could to fix their weapons without getting too exhausted, she’d wandered around until she saw the pair of them fishing.

She shakes her head, ignoring how the motion makes her feel like she’s tossing her brain inside it. “Potion helped, think I just didn’t sleep enough last night.” That much was true, at least. She’d woken up before dawn from a nightmare that slipped from her mind as quickly as it’d taken hold of it. Only Twilight had woken up from her exit, and here he is, sleeping away that early morning fatigue.

Legend squints at her like he can tell she’s hiding more, but he lets off with a sigh. “Try not to get the bed next to Sky, then,” he says dryly, nose wrinkled just thinking about it. “He’s probably gonna see Time and Malon hug and then go on another love rant for Sun again tonight.”

A smirk climbs up her face. “Having regrets from last night?”

“ _Many_.”

Before she can continue making fun of Legend, Wind’s voice comes echoing down. He waves from the top of the hill above them, a hand cupped around his mouth. “Hey! Malon and Wild says it’s dinnertime!” Twilight jolts awake with a yelp, and they’re treated to a view of him tumbling over in his disorientation.

He lies on his back for a moment before sitting up, face flushed darker than a red chuchu. “Not a word,” he warns.

Too late for that. Wind’s already running back to the house, audacious delighted laughter carried back by the wind. _What about_ many _words?_ a little whisper snickers, buoyed by amusement and glee. Four doesn’t stop the grin spreading across her face, and going on the look on his face Legend is going to make sure that if Wind doesn’t spread the story, he’ll take up the task himself.

By the time they make it back to the ranch, most of everyone else has gathered, a few sneaking bites (or getting their fingers smacked with a spoon for their efforts). Only Wild is missing, and she enters at the same time they do, wearing her usual outfit rather than the dress from that morning. “What took you so long?” she asks, sliding into a seat.

Twilight slaps a hand over Legend’s mouth before he can say anything. “Nothing,” he baldly lies (like he hasn’t spent the past five minutes trying to bribe Legend not to hold this over his head for the next week). 

“Getting the grass out of your hair?” Warriors asks innocently, and there’s a flurry of muffled laughter when Twilight reaches over to flick at his ear.

“Boys.” Malon’s raised eyebrow is enough to cow them all into settling down again. Four sits between Sky and Warriors, ignoring the grumble from the back of her mind.

_I didn’t get the gender just to be called a_ boy _._

_Explain to them we aren’t one, then?_

_Ooh, does that mean they’ll help us vote next time? We’ll stop having ties!_

_Red... we’d still have an even number of people voting._

“Is something wrong?” Sky asks, low enough that it’s only between the two of them. His brows are furrowed, looking at her, and with a start Four realizes it mirrors her own expression. She smooths it out, pushing the disquiet in her back down. Everyone had started eating without her noticing.

“Nothing, just thinking about this repair I need to do later,” she says. Something about Sky’s expression says he doesn’t quite buy her excuse, but she starts eating before he can question her further. 

It’s for the better, because the food is delicious. It’s a different taste than usual, but no less good for it; on the other side of the table, Wild’s ears flick up in delight with every bite, and she turns to Malon next to her. Under the clamor of ten people enjoying dinner, Four can make out the two conferring about recipes. 

To her other side, Warriors sighs as he breaks open a loaf of bread, a heartfelt and content thing. It’s still warm from the oven, and the gentle steam entices Four’s nose, even though she’s not the one smelling it. “I guess it’s a good thing we can’t eat like this every day,” Warriors laments. “We’d surely eat ourselves silly and forget our duties.”

“Maybe you’ll get round enough we can just roll you at moblins,” Legend calls from further down the table. They fall into predictable squabbling, and Four hides a grin into her own bite of bread. They’re too preoccupied to notice Wind, sitting in-between them, sneaking some vegetable bits onto their plates.

Sky chuckles, not quite as successful in hiding his humor. “He’s right, though,” he says to no one in particular, turning away from the scene. “It may be a hidden blessing Wild doesn’t have the resources to cook like this all the time. I don’t think I’d ever think to leave the dining table other than to get her more ingredients.”

“It’s all thanks to Malon,” Wild says, tuning into the prompt. For some reason, her smile seems a little stilted, but Four can’t puzzle out why. “She gave me a lot of tips, so we’ll see if I can’t recreate a few things on the road.”

The conversation continues on without Four’s notice. _There’s just…_ _hmm_ … Something about Wild’s expression bothers her. Blue keeps making noise, that annoying in-between of attention grabbing and incoherent. Four’s feeling something but no idea what. 

_Is something wrong?_ Red’s concern rises to the surface. Four ducks her head into her plate to hide the little moue her lips push into, unsure of why she’s feeling so disjointed today but not liking it. It’s not unusual to happen the longer they go without splitting or whenever they’re divided on an issue, but it’s only Blue who’s restless.

_Tell you in a bit_ , Blue replies. That doesn’t stop her from rustling around in her little corner of Four’s brain, keeping her distracted all throughout dinner. Thankfully, no one really seems to notice. 

Four keeps track of whatever grabs her attention, knowing that it’s probably Blue’s focus that pulls it to mind. A few snippets of conversation about herself (Time quietly asking Legend if Four seemed strained; _no, he said something about not sleeping enough_ ), some about Wild ( _she made it with coconut milk so I totally can eat this,_ Wind insisting to Twilight), her eyes constantly slipping to Wild’s expression.

Her eyebrows twitch into a small furrow and smoothen near immediately, probably for the upteenth time that night, when she overhears Hyrule: “Four could probably do with some milk too, if you’re calling me short,” he defends jokingly to Malon, “because he’s even shorter!”

Yuck. If it weren’t for the fact Blue would most certainly snap and split in order to beat into their skulls that she deserves her time to be herself (and the fact she most certainly does), Four would almost wish Blue would lose every gender election. Feeling this way is _awful_. It takes concentration to keep her expression neutral.

Wait. Wait a moment.

_You don’t think…?_

She’s not sure where the thought comes from, only that she’s suddenly flashing through the past few weeks, thinking of things said, faces made. In her mind’s eye is Wild’s off kilter smile, the frown made and hidden whenever people refer to her. Refer to her as _her_. Does it line up? Is this really what she thinks it is?

_Would we be so lucky as to have more like us in the same group?_ Green says, but they’re hesitant. It’s not common, exactly, but it’s not uncommon either.

_Not enough info_ , Vio reminds. _But—social construct, feral wildchild—she looks unhappy when we refer to her as a girl, they as a girl…?_

Blue’s input: _They make the same expression I do whenever someone calls us a boy_.

_Like us_ , Red decides, confident. The warmth of it spreads all through Four’s chest, steady and firm. Maybe she’s jumping to conclusions, but every part of her is thinking it, considering it. 

The thought comes to her in an overlap of feelings, a buzz building under her skin. _Someone like us. Maybe we can..._

Four looks down and blinks in surprise. Her bowl is scraped clean, the impression of buttery salmon lingering on her tongue. She barely tasted dinner, so occupied she was in her thoughts. Sky nudges her gently, taking her bowl right out of her hands. “Go get ready for bed,” he suggests, giving her an understanding smile. “You’ve been out of it all dinner.”

“Go snag a spot away from loverboy here before he keeps you up all night later,” Legend suggests, looking exasperated. She’s pretty sure she missed an entire rant on Sun while she was thinking. Most of the others have left the table, a few cleaning up the area. Legend flicks the rag he was using to wipe down the table at her. “Well? Shoo, squirt.”

Four (cough, Blue) nearly sticks out her tongue at him. “Do you know where the cook went? Wanted to ask Wild something.” 

A sharp look. “Is that why you’ve been so distracted today?” Legend asks, but he continues before she can make up an answer. “She went upstairs, something about needing fresh air. My bet’s she’s on the roof.”

“Be careful up there,” Sky warns. He’s referring to the drop that might break a neck, but Four traces her teeth with her tongue and smiles. She wants to throw caution to the wind.

_‘Explain that we aren’t one’, right?_ For the first time this night, Four feels unified in what she’s going to do on that roof. Maybe her conclusions are wrong, but a leap of faith isn’t anything new. Like a trust fall. She’s safe no matter the outcome, Wild isn’t the type of person to judge, and there’s a chance of her bonding with a friend in an unexpected way.

“We’ll be fine,” she says, and she means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooo boy hoo boy!! i love four so much bc i finally read one of the mangas and got so caught up in thinking about it i nearly cried. for reference, blue uses she/her nd is very firmly a girl, vio is he/him and a boy, green vibes with they/them but doesnt care, red does the mental equivalent of rolling a die but defaults he/they.
> 
> they hold gender elections biweekly (officially), but honestly its up to whoever can convince red/greenn to change their votes first, so sometimes a link will wake up to four staring at the campfire, mouthing to themselves "why did u wake me up at 5 am for a monster cake bribe"
> 
> i was considering having four (haha) (4) sections, as in time - malon - four - wild, bc so far ive been sticking to a wild section each chapter, but i think this works out fine (also i may just be lazy).
> 
> hope yall enjoyed!! as always, hit me up with thoughts, comments, criticisms, whatever :') please be gentle


	4. And Laugh, Knowingly, Into Warm Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A leap of faith is what Four decided on, and Wild draws strength from it to do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this bad boy is FINALLY over oh my god. update after like 2 months but still!! better than the fics i havent updated in ,,, 4 years. haha Whoops.
> 
> thank all yall for reading this far and kudoing and commenting, my gods when i first started working on this i expected to get completely ignored ;;w;; im glad people vibe with this because as a generally closeted Whats A Gender kid i wrote this with so much self projection in it, and its nice to see that some of it resonates with others. everyones got different experiences but we all handshake over ???? Gender???? and i like that a lot.
> 
> (also i am so so sorry if i havent responded to ur comment at first i didnt meet my self set goals to do before replying, then i had no energy, now im both out of energy and scared of being too late to reply at this point jfsldnv so so so sorry i appreciate them beyond belief)
> 
> hope yall enjoy this last(?) update!! as always cw some misgendering but way less (FINALLY)

The stars are different across their Hyrules. Wild’s not sure what that means, if his friends are all from different worlds entirely or that he’s just a particularly bad stargazer. Only a few constellations seem familiar, but they’re posed in odd angles, distorted in their likeness.

Sounds of laughter and bickering float up like dreams, wispy and comforting. A waning moon hangs above, a sliver of light smiling past some clouds. The night breeze brings with it something sweet, and he closes his eyes to relish the way it tugs at his hair. It’s going to rain tonight.

Up here, he feels his thoughts settle.

Today was… an experience. If he thinks too hard about it he’s pretty sure he’ll burst into half-hysterical giggles. Finally, finally! He’d said, “I’m a boy, now,”, and all Malon did was thank him for telling her. She’d shooed him off to change whatever he wanted to presentation-wise, sounding interested when he told her about his earrings system. 

“Boys,” she’d scolded the whole group when they were bumbling around before dinner, and she had winked at him. At _him!_ At the time, it had taken him everything not to somehow physically glow, pushing down the sudden (surprise? delight? relief?) warmth into only a sly grin. Even when the others referred to him wrongly, all he’d do is catch her sympathetic eyes and feel giddiness bubble back up.

He probably looks silly, smiling up at the moon and smothering giggles. He, he, he. One of the boys. It’s so—Wild cups his mouth and nose with his hands, forcing himself to breathe more slowly even as his cheeks hurt from how wide he’s smiling. He knew how much he missed being referred to as a boy, but… Golden Goddesses, it’s not until it happened did he realize how _good_ it feels.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

“Don’t fall down my roof now, young man,” Malon had quietly told him when she caught him half out of a window, a little secretive wink accompanying her words.

The next exhale comes out in a high pitched wheeze, and he rubs his face roughly to calm down. His palms pull away damp.

Just—

He doesn’t know how much time he spends like that, hiccuping laughter and quiet, happy sobs to himself. It’s honestly pretty melodramatic, except it’s justified, okay? He still has telling the others to do, but it’s not as daunting as before. A weight off his shoulders, the reassuring weight of Malon’s hand pressed to his back—it means so much.

_I need to bake her something really nice_ , he decides once he calms down again, wiping away the last of the tears and snot. Not apples, since they had apple pie tonight. Royal fruitcake, maybe. If he gets up early he might even be able to surprise her with wildberry crepes.

He’s too caught up thinking about menu possibilities to hear the sounds of someone climbing the wall under him, nearly slipping off the roof in his surprise when Four’s voice rings out, a touch strained, “Wild, are you up there? A little help, please?”

“Oh!”

With a hand for support, Four hauls himself up. “How do you climb everything so quickly?” he complains. Wild’s teasing jibe (“My arms can actually reach the handholds?”) gets him a half-hearted swat to the shoulder. 

They settle into relatively safe positions with only minimal elbowing and nudging. Wild lies down this time, pillowing his head on folded arms and staring straight up to the cloudy sky. The few visible stars wink down at him. Four stays quiet, looking contemplative when Wild throws him a glance. If he’s noticed Wild’s puffy face and red eyes in the weak moonlight, he doesn’t say anything.

“So what—”

“I wanted—”

They both stop at the same time, and Wild laughs at the sudden awkward silence. A beat, and Four laughs too. “You go first,” he offers, and Wild shakes his head.

“I was gonna go for small talk, to be honest. What’s up? You don’t usually come climbing up after me.”

For a second, hesitation flashes over Four’s face before he smiles, a rueful twist to it that Wild doesn’t have the context for. He watches with curiosity as Four shrugs, purposefully loose and relaxed. “Bear with me for a second, okay?” he says. “I wanted to tell you something, but I didn’t really plan ahead of time how I’m going to say it.”

Wild sits up at that, interest piqued at that. “Uh, take your time? I’ll look at the stars or something, no pressure.” He probably looks silly, turning to stare at the stars with more visible concentration than they really call for, but Four’s snicker makes it worthwhile.

“You don’t have to do that, I don’t think I’m going to make this any more complicated than it has to be,” Four says. He meets Wild’s gaze with steady, trusting eyes, a faint smile curling his lips. Only the barest hint of nerves wavers under his words. “I’m a girl today.”

Wild blinks. “Oh, nice,” he says, bemused, and then freezes. “Today?”

Four’s grin cracks wider. Wild’s not sure what expression he has on his face, but it’s apparently a promising one. “Yeah?”

“No way,” he utters, voice flat in disbelief. “You. You too?”

Four’s nod is responded with a tackling hug that nearly knocks them off the roof. “I can’t believe! You! Like me!” Wild half whispers, half shouts. Four is laughing at him for sure now, and there’s relief embedded in the sound. Relief and joy, and Wild might cry for the second time in the same night, knowing the cause.

“I wasn’t sure,” Four gasps, clutching at Wild’s shoulders, “but you looked the way I felt whenever I got misgendered, so—” Wild laughs, loud and high both in pitch and emotions. “What’re your pronouns?”

Like a secret, Wild breathes out, “He and him today. Right now. I was a girl until before dinner.” He squeezes tighter, and Four squeezes right back. “She and her for you, right?”

A smile presses to his ear like a charm, like a token, and Wild’s heart feels ready to burst. “For now, yeah.”

He rocks back onto his heels, and they just sit like that for a moment grinning at each other, half sprawled on a roof and close to falling off. “Does anyone else here know?” he asks, shifting so they can both scramble back up to a more stable position.

“No, you’re the first. It was kind of an impulse decision,” Four admits. She hasn’t stopped smiling. “You?”

“No one—oh!” Wild swings around so fast he gets hair in his mouth. “Malon knows!”

“She does!” Four repeats in delight. “And she…?”

Wild bobs his head, breathless giggles slipping out again just thinking about it. “She let me practice on her how to tell you all while we were making dinner,” he reveals, pinking as he remembers all the different ways he verbally stumbled or clammed up earlier that evening. “It’s, um. It’s a work in progress.”

Her face smooths into sympathy—no, empathy. “Well, you’ve got one out of eight down,” she offers. She doesn’t hesitate to reach over and squeeze Wild’s hand, and that little act of compassion squeezes Wild’s heart too. “Were you going to tell the group as a whole?”

“Probably a few at a time.” He was thinking Wind, maybe, or Twilight. Legend is another option, since he gave Wild advice before. “A few to get the hang of it, then the group as a whole the next time I feel different? I don’t know, I’m still figuring out how to word the thing in the first place.” He’s told others before, but it didn’t feel as high-risk as telling this group of heroes would be. Logically, he knows they’ll be respectful, understanding even, but nerves still block the words from his brain to his mouth.

Four nods, looking thoughtful. “I could come out with you to the group,” she says, grinning a bit when she notices Wild’s wide-eyed expression. “That way neither of us get too much attention at once. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while too, so it’s a win-win situation.”

“Would you really?” Wild boggles despite himself. “That’d be great, thank…” A drop of water on his nose surprises him into looking up mid-sentence to see that the moon is obscured by heavy clouds. The night around them is so dark it’s a wonder neither of them noticed the impending rain earlier, and a bolt of lightning illuminates the sky for a brief moment. He yelps as thunder startles them into nearly falling off the roof.

Rain comes down quick, cold and unforgiving. It’s a mad scramble to get down and into the house without slipping and breaking their skulls. Thankfully—though Time and Malon might say otherwise—the little window of the attic is still open from when Wild then Four had crawled out earlier. It’s with stifled laughter and wheezing gasps from the chill that they stumble into the attic.

“Time’s going to kill us if we get sick,” Four bemoans, teeth chattering. Water drips down her face, and she wipes it away with an equally wet hand, getting it nowhere. “Do you know where the mop is in this house? We should clean up the mess before they see it.”

“It’s probably downstairs, I think I saw it earlier,” Wild says, fingers fumbling with the window latch. The rain pounds against the glass, but there’s already a large puddle by their feet. He turns around and jumps right out of his skin to see Sky curled up on a bedroll on the floor opposite to them, eyes nearly glowing in the dark as lighting once again strikes down. “Holy Hylia, Sky, how long have you been there?!”

* * *

Sky has a couple of problems.

Problem one: he misses Zelda. He misses Skyloft. He misses his loftwing. He’s _homesick_ , and as horrible as it feels to admit it, being at Lon Lon Ranch only makes that worse. Seeing Time and Malon wrapped up together sends pangs of envy into his heart for his own love a millennia away, and the easy comfort of their home makes him long for his own room with the same cozy clutter.

Solution to problem one: he banished himself to the attic. It’s not as dusty as he feared, and the mess is entirely different to the one at home. The window was already open when he settled his bedroll against a wall. From his spot, laying down, he can see a few stars twinkle their nightly greetings. The clouds were thicker than he’d normally see in Skyloft, but like this, he can almost pretend that he’s just crashing in someone’s attic up in the skies, only endless sky to see out the window.

Unfortunately, the solution led directly to problem two, which is staring him in the face. Literally—Wild and Four stare at him, and he aims a smile right back, hoping beyond belief that it doesn’t look too flustered. He’s pretty sure he fails.

“Came up here to sleep,” he says, wincing when his voice comes out a croak. _The thunder woke me up_ , he wants to lie. Should he? Is it too much information? It’s been a beat too long, too late to say it now.

He could pretend to be sleep-slow, too groggy to talk properly. He says, “You woke me up.” Technically not a lie, but hopefully they’d assume they woke him with their entry and not their talking on the roof.

“Sorry,” Four says, his—her?—face apologetic. Oh sweet Hylia, it’s been barely a minute and already guilt churns in his gut. “Go back to sleep, we’ll clean up a little before going to bed.” Sky just nods, closing his eyes as naturally as he can and praying he doesn’t seem stiff.

He can hear them shuffle around, whispering barely louder than their soft footsteps. Sky holds his breath, desperately willing himself not to blurt out something he isn’t meant to know. He’s not even sure if he really knows what they were saying. The attic door opens with a creak, and he exhales shakily.

It’s not like he meant to eavesdrop. He had only barely begun dozing off when their voices floated in through the window, and by the time it’d occurred to him to close the window, leave the room, _anything_ , they’d already started laughing with unmistakable relief that’d frozen him into just listening. 

Do they really feel so relieved? Is their burden truly so isolating? _Like me!_ Wild had cried, and something uncomfortable bunches itself up in his throat at the memory. He couldn’t hear all of it, not really, but he thinks he heard enough to make a guess.

_You looked the way I felt whenever I got misgendered_ , Four had explained, words nearly lost in the breeze, and though he knows he’s not at fault for it, Sky can’t help but feel awful.

He doesn’t know what to do. Clearly it’s something that’s bothering both of them, and it’s something so easy Sky wouldn’t hesitate to correct himself in an instant if it weren’t for the fact they didn’t tell him. They didn’t mean for him to know, not yet at least, so should he just… pretend he didn’t hear? 

Until they make the decision to tell him, he probably shouldn’t say anything or do anything that confirms his new knowledge. Right? Maybe?

The door creaks again, and Sky doesn’t have to look to know that they’re back. He opens his eyes anyway despite only darkness greeting him. “We’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” Wild promises, voice hushed. A bolt of light illuminates their outlines, white-purple glinting off the puddle and lighting up hair in a split-second halo. Both their faces shine, that brief moment, like they’re wet; he’d think it only from the rain outside if it weren’t for the tinge of red barely visible around their eyes.

Sky rolls over, shutting his own eyes shut. The shine of their smiles remains bright behind his eyelids.

Not his secret. Not yet a burden he can help relieve. _Soon_ , he tells himself. Sky’s not blind, he’s noticed the tension they both carried today, and no one’s missed Wild’s recent behavior. He’s pretty sure they said something about coming out soon just as the rain started coming down too. It’ll happen sooner or later, and the best he can do is make sure they feel comfortable enough to do so until then.

Sleep doesn’t come easily even after Four and Wild leave.

Hyrule pauses at the sight of him the next morning, concern wiping some lingering grogginess off his features. “You could ask Legend for a pain reliever or a sleeping potion? I think he still has some left over,” he offers after Sky endures his insistent impromptu physical. It’s not the injuries keeping him up, nor the usual nightmares that plague their group, but Sky doubts that “guilt fueled by accidentally eavesdropping over a sensitive secret” is a reason he can give Hyrule.

“Maybe,” he says, noncommittal, and flees to wash up and maybe look more like a person who slept longer than two hours.

It doesn’t really help. Over breakfast, his hands have the slightest tremble to them as he sips from the coffee Malon so generously provided, and the caffeine only makes it worse. “Didn’t sleep well last night,” he says, repeating the same excuse he gave Hyrule when Warriors asks. It’s not a lie. He’s not a good liar at all, so half-truths are the lifelines he now clings to.

“Oh, Grandma’s the same,” Wind pipes up. Sky feels a brief pang of guilt for the faint worry furrowing the kid’s brow before it blends in with the rest of the turmoil he’s been choking on since last night. “Take a nap after this! That’s always nice, especially when the sun isn’t too hot and the wind comes in the window just right…!”

Legend snorts. “Sounds like you want a nap yourself, kid,” he teases. “Still the age for it, aren’t you?”

With the ease of long practice, Sky tunes out their bickering to pay attention to Time. “A nap will do you some good,” he says, but a stern frown pulls at his mouth. “We’ll have someone wake you up before long, though, or else your sleeping patterns might get messed up.” He sends a pointed look at Wild, who sticks out his(?)—their tongue out in childish denial.

“Not my fault you can’t sneak past sleeping monsters with your clanky armor,” they say, unrepentant. 

When the conversation turns to the merits of different armor and nocturnal travel, Four turns to give him a small, embarrassed smile. Hushed, she says, “I know I said it last night, but sorry if we kept you up last night.” Wild, as if knowing the conversation topic, turns from explaining to Twilight why stals are preferable to moblins and sends him a sheepish smile of their own.

Well. They didn’t keep him up, exactly. It’s more his tendency to fixate on an issue and overthink it than them specifically. “It’s fine,” he reassures, “I had a lot on my mind anyway.” And really, it is. The guilt will fade sooner or later, he knows; it’s not like he _meant_ to eavesdrop on their secrets. It’s not even his problem, he’s just awful with handling things like this. His brain turns over the situation like a worry stone, thinking and thinking and thinking until it’s either resolved or he can finally settle upon a course of action. 

Thankfully, the solution is pretty obvious, even if it took him a few hours to fully warm up to it. Respecting their privacy is the only option. It’s not his place to do anything else, even if he hates knowing that he could be the cause of a subdued smile, a faltered reply. He’s been avoiding using pronouns for either of them—is Four even a girl right now? She said _today_ , implying that it’s only sometimes—resulting in some very awkwardly arranged sentences. It’s gotten him a few odd looks, but nothing too bad.

He gets sent to bed not long after that, Time and Malon gently coercing him to the guest bed instead of letting him use his bedroll. He takes it without much protest, sighing as he sinks into an actual mattress. Before he knows it, someone is shaking him by the shoulder.

“5 more minutes…” he groans. The afternoon sun shines right into his eyes when he cracks them open, and Twilight’s laughter greets him into the realm of awakening.

“Nope, it’s time to get up.” Sky grumbles, incomprehensible even to himself as the mattress sinks to accommodate the weight dropping down next to him. Twilight pulls down his blanket and pats his back firmly. “You’re going to regret it tonight if you sleep more now.”

“You doubt how good I am at sleeping when not plagued by stupid thoughts,” he complains into his pillow. 

The warm hand resting against him stills before Twilight shifts to drop his arm onto Sky, his weight following. Ignoring Sky’s tired groan, he asks, “So something’s been bothering you, then?”

Sky freezes. When he doesn’t reply, Twilight just hums and makes himself comfortable. “You kept stuttering whenever you talked about Wild and Four this morning,” he says, casual and offhand. “I wasn’t paying much attention until later on, but I don’t think you looked them in the eye even once unless one of them was standing right next to you in direct conversation.” 

His weight shifts further and further. Sky cracks open an eye and tries not to flinch when he’s met with Twilight’s expression. Oh Hylia. He’s accidentally turned on the Big Brother Mode. “You’re the same age as me, don’t look at me like that,” he says, heaving a sigh of relief as Twilight pulls back with a surprised laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ve been worried about Wild lately, so I guess I’ve just been in that kind of mindset.” He doesn’t get off Sky though, comfortable in a way that speaks to experience with lying over even the squirmiest of children. “Anyway, don’t distract me from the point. Is it going to be a problem?”

Sky shakes his head, relieved to know his denial is genuine. “No, it’s nothing bad.”

Twilight eyes him, judging his sincerity for a second before nodding back. He offers, “Just because I can’t ‘big brother’ you doesn’t mean I can’t listen, if that’s what you need.”

Endearment tugs his lips into a smile, and Sky slumps deeper into the bed. “Not anymore I don’t, but thank you,” he says. It’s sincere; it would’ve been nice to bounce his thoughts off someone last night, though probably equally hard to do it without giving away the secret.

Twilight hums, letting his weight—something comforting, something grounding, Sky realizes—press against him for another moment before he levers himself back to sitting normally. Sky turns over to watch the other stand and stretch.

“I’ll trust your judgement on that, then,” he says, affable. “Just know the offer’s always open.”

It’s sweet, the kind of care and comfort Twilight extends to everyone with nary a moment’s hesitation. Even though he went to sleep already feeling better than the night before, Sky’s aches are lighter for the check-in. 

When Twilight extends a helping hand up, he takes it. “Yes, big brother,” Sky teases and is rewarded by an eyeroll. He laughs as they leave the room, any lingering turmoil pushed aside in favor of a heart that feels full and warm.

* * *

In front of the cooking fire, Wild hums as they scale a fish. It’s something half-familiar, and Twilight hums an echo as he tries to place it.

They’re stopping early for the day, the sun still hanging high in the sky. Not very far from them lies a monster camp now decimated, and it was to cheering that Time proposed making camp. The battle wasn’t the worst they’ve had, but enough of them had new aches and a few injuries to all be glad to take a break.

Now they’re all engrossed in their own tasks and relaxation, from Warriors and Four doing inventory to Wind and Twilight dozing under the sun. Next to them, Time and Legend quietly discuss tomorrow’s travel plans. Sky and Hyrule are today’s rotation for helping-the-cook, and they chatter lightly as they help with preparation. 

With the sun on his face, the familiar murmurs of the others overlapping with Wild’s song, Twilight feels the beckoning of a doze like a physical pull.

“Done!” Hyrule says, showing Wild his platter of chopped vegetables for inspection. From his spot nearby, Twilight can make out neat slices of color, the red and yellow and green of peppers. 

Wild takes it with a grin. “Perfect! You remembered to take out the stems this time too, thanks,” they praise.

Watching Wild like this, it’s easy to miss the mood they’ve been in recently. A few months before, they were subdued, their usual brightness muffled, but Twilight had almost thought it cured when they were at Lon Lon Ranch a few months back. Their cheer came back after the first day, bouncy and recklessly happy as they scuffled with the pigs and chased the cuccos. It was probably a blessing they didn’t get in trouble with one of the ornery horses and get their face kicked in.

Afterwards, though, their mood worsened again. It wasn’t anything noticeable at first, just a few tired sighs when they thought themselves alone, some dissatisfaction on their face at some private thoughts when they went out foraging with Twilight. Now it’s grown from something quiet to a cloud that seems to hang over their head.

Not like before, he decides, thinking about it. Before was… indecisiveness, guilt, chafing under bonds none of them could perceive. Now it’s something else. The indecisiveness is still there, but now there’s more anger, something that’s directed inward instead of outward hesitance.

Four seems to know something about it; they’ve been closer than ever before, exchanging secretive smiles and whispers between themselves in the early morning, sometimes just in moments on the fringes of the group as they travel. The little morning ritual seems to be good for both of them. Even if it’s only for a short while, they walk with the reassurance of _something_ afterwards. A spring in their steps, the warm curve of lips—Four is definitely into whatever it is that’s plaguing Wild and helping them out on it.

Twilight thinks he knows something about it as well.

Twilight’s always been a good secret keeper. Not the best liar, no—lying has always come a bit difficult to him, knowing Rusl or Uli would wash his mouth out with soap if they ever caught him—but he’s good with keeping his gob shut or deflecting if pressed. Don’t tell the kids about the concern the adults whisper to each other; don’t tell the adults about the mischief the children giggle about amongst themselves. He’s in the perfect position to be privy to both sides, and just the right age to know what not to say.

So when he overheard Wild muttering to no one, sardonically joking even as he (and it was _he_ at the time) struggled with finding the right words, Twilight pretended to not hear.

_Hey, I know you’ve been under the impression I’m a woman this whole time, but surprise, I’m actually a man! Except it’s not all the time, but today I am and have been for the past week._

There’s… not many ways to interpret that.

Twilight has been doing his best about it. He offered to lend an ear, he keeps an eye out for any sign of overt discomfort as a cue to change the subject, and he keeps his mouth shut. Not his place to say anything, and it feels too late to say anything now that he’s let the moment pass.

A sigh breaks him out of his dozing. Twilight blinks his eyes awake to see Wild stand up with a contemplative expression. “I’m going to go see if I can scrounge up some mushrooms, I’m nearly out,” they say to Hyrule and Sky. For a second, their eyes study the two before easing back to neutrality with a barely noticeable shake of the head. “Shouldn’t take too long, so don’t start without me, we still have plenty of time before dinner.”

Hyrule blinks at that. “Want me to do it instead or go with you?” he offers, frowning at where bandages hide underneath Wild’s pants. When they start to protest, he insists, “You’re still injured, if not me then at least bring someone else.”

Wild scrunches their nose up. Twilight is about to offer when they turn around, that contemplative look returning to their face. “Hey Wind,” they call out. “Wanna come foraging with me?”

Glee dancing in his eyes, Wind perks up like a plant finally watered after a drought. No one’s been letting him do anything after he got a concussion earlier, though he insisted the potion already cured all of it. “Sure, let’s go!” he agrees, and before anyone can stop them they’re already past the treeline.

“Hey, aren’t you…?” Sky starts, a beat too late. They’re gone, and Twilight sighs.

“An injured person bringing the only other injured person along for protection,” he bemoans. “We should’ve given him something to do so he’d be too worn out to go with Wild.” He grumbles more as he hauls himself up, clasping a hand to Time’s shoulder as he walks past. “I’m going to go make sure they don’t accidentally fall into another monster camp,” he says, dry.

Legend, the prick, smirks at him. “Go _fetch_.” He doesn’t deign to give back a response other than rolling his eyes.

Everyone turns back to their tasks without further fanfare, already used to Twilight rounding up whichever hero decided to unwisely stray away from the group. Only Four’s gaze lingers, a small frown on his face. Twilight raises an eyebrow at him. “Something the matter?”

“Try not to sneak up on them,” comes the bland response. “Given our luck, they’d trip over something in surprise and sprain their ankles.”

It’s with an uneasy feeling that Twilight leaves the camp, making sure no one is in sight before transforming. He shakes himself once, twice, claws flexing against dirt before he sets off in a trot to find the two intrepid adventurers. _At least it’s not Wild and_ Hyrule _this time_ , he thinks with a resigned sort of gratefulness. They have the attention span of a toddler between the two of them.

Thankfully, it’s much easier to find them than expected. They’re not very far away; Wild sits at the base of a tree, Wind right next to them. For a second, Twilight fears they’ve managed to get injured in the scant ten minutes they were out of sight, but a burst of laughter washes the worry away.

“...and we nearly fell off the roof,” Wild is saying, hands clawing at an imaginary slippery wall. They’re smiling, which Twilight takes to mean they’re telling a story that either ends well or so outrageously badly that he’d grow gray hairs just listening to it.

Wind guffaws. “That’s what you get for telling secrets up there,” he says, way too delighted for someone told their storyteller could’ve broken their neck. “And, and?”

“And we woke up Sky when we climbed through the window,” they admit, sounding a little sheepish now. “Had to mop up the mess too.” Wind makes a little curious sound.

“You two were loud enough to wake him up?” he asks, scrunching up his face as he imagines it. Twilight can relate; it usually takes a lot to wake up Sky after he’s dropped off, and Wild tends to be graceful no matter the situation. What sort of racket did they make? Or was it the other person with them? He paws a little bit closer, not wanting to interrupt.

Wild hums in thought. They say, after a moment, “We were, that’s what he said at least. Four and I were laughing about the rain when we were coming down, so that was probably what woke him up.” Here, they stop, looking a bit pensive. “Or maybe he… no, nevermind.”

Wind, for all that he’s younger than the rest of them, can’t be called slow on the uptake. “Did he overhear your secret?” he exclaims, hushed with suspense.

What _secret_? What kind of story is Wild even telling? Twilight hesitates. He didn’t want to burst in on their conversation earlier, but now he’s thinking it might be a good idea to make his presence known if they might be talking about something… private? All he’s heard so far is vague enough that he’s not even sure if it is.

While he’s considering backing away, Wild says, “I guess it would explain how he was afterwards. I thought he was acting weird, but figured it was just because we woke him up.” They shake their head. “It doesn’t matter, though, I’m planning on telling him and everyone else sooner than later.”

At this, Wind straightens, a simple joy alighting in his eyes. “But you’re telling me first!” he says, smug and impish in the way all kids get when they’re told things ahead of everyone else. Then he deflates, just a little. “Or, well, second, since Four already knows. Or third, if Sky heard.”

“Four doesn’t count—he guessed it and he was right. Sky might have just woken up when we climbed into the attic,” Wild corrects. They bump shoulders with him, smiling when he perks right back up. “You’re the first I’m _telling_.”

Oh no. Twilight is definitely not meant to be here. He starts to take a step back, then another, then—

_Crack!_

A twig snaps under a paw, and he freezes as two pairs of eyes lock onto him instantly.

“Woflie!” Wind calls over, and Twilight slinks into the clearing, trying not to let his tail droop so much. So much for that idea. He tries to make eye contact with Wild as Wind pulls him into a fur-scrubbing embrace— _I can leave, you can talk to Wind in peace_ , he tries to send telepathically—but they only make a surprised, appraising noise.

“Guess you can share first dibs with Wolfie,” Wild says, and the smile that dropped off their face earlier returns in a slow, warm spread. They scratch Twilight behind the ears and murmurs, “I trust both of you, after all.”

Twilight blinks at them, and they nod in self-affirming determination. Wind for his part, vibrates right around him, clearly excited. “C’mon, tell me already!” he demands to Wild’s amusement.

“Okay, okay, it’s not that exciting,” they laugh, a little nervous edge neatly hidden under faux-casualness. A scarred hand comes up to smooth down the fur leading down to Twilight’s front. “Well, it’s like this. You know how hylian society traditionally has two genders?”

_Oh!_ Despite himself, his tail thwumps into a beat. Is this…?

Above him, Wind nods, his chin digging into the base of Twilight’s head. His breath tickles across the back. “Yeah, boys and girls?”

The hand in Twilight’s fur starts combing it instead. “Yeah, that’s pretty constant among all our Hyrules. Yours has gorons, right?” Another nod, and Wild continues, “I don’t know about your gorons, but mine don’t have a concept of gender. They use male pronouns, yeah, but that’s just because of imperialisation and Hyrule forcing its arbitrary social constructs upon them when it’s a whole different phenomenon altogether that can’t be translated into the same system—hylians pretty much just assumed the gorons were male and… and I got off topic. Uh.”

With an entirely serious and enraptured tone, Wind asks, “Did you steal the goron’s non-gender?”

Twilight expects Wild to say laugh off the question, but they give it actual thought before nodding solemnly. “I stole the gorons’ non-gender.” 

Wind’s gasp to this is just as delighted as it is worrisome. “ _That is so cool!_ ”

If he could, Twilight would say, “Please don’t go stealing genders, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.” As it is, he currently can’t talk, so all he does is heave the most exasperated sigh he’s capable of.

That brings Wild’s eyes upon him. “You got a problem with that, dog breath?” they tease, gently pulling at his whiskers. Their shoulders have tensed up upon him sighing, he realizes, and under the playful tone is something hurt and scared.

Twilight does the only thing he can think to do at the moment. He leans forward and plants a big slobbery lick right over Wild’s face from jaw to brow.

“ _Hey!_ ” they shriek, and the sadness has been wiped completely for a delight that completely transforms their countenance. The three of them lose a few minutes tussling as Wild scrubs at his sides and Wind cheers them both on. Finally Wild flops to the forest floor, Twilight smugly settling down on top of them, avoiding the wounded thigh. Wind adds insult to injury by leaning over Twilight and consequently Wild as well.

“I should’ve shooed you away,” they groan, but Wild is smiling so wide it looks like it hurts. “Should’ve just had Wind had first dibs on his own.”

“But you didn’t!” Wind says, sing-song. He peers down at Wild from atop his furry throne with a little cat-got-the-canary grin. Twilight can only look peripherally, but he thinks there’s something relieved about it. The sailor isn’t slow on the uptake, not one bit. Just lying on the ground like this, happy and loose and more unwound that they’ve seen in months, Wild looks like an entirely new person from the one before, even if their burden wasn’t obvious before. “So, was that the secret?”

“Hm?”

“You stealing the non-gender.”

That gets a giggle from Wild. “Sort of. I stole some other genders too.”

“ _Awesome_! Can I do that?”

“You can steal or throw out genders as you please, they’re like pretty rocks? If you don’t like one you can just pick up another or skip ‘em all down a lake. You wanna try it out?”

Wind makes a thoughtful noise, his brow scrunching as he thinks. Wild waits patiently under them, smile unfading. “Nah, maybe later. I’m gonna steal Tetra’s gender when we get to my world,” he decides, much to Twilight’s exasperation.

_You did this_ , he says with his eyes, and Wild beams right back, unrepentant.

They look so happy. _You did this_ , he thinks again, different this time, and he feels so _warm_. They took the leap of faith, and he and Wind were able to catch them. Something weighs lighter on him, knowing that he can stop being a secret-keeper and finally be an open supporter. He tilts his head to lick a small stripe at the edge of their jaw, and Wild laughs quietly as they allow it.

Something seems to click in Wind’s head, and he leans more over Twilight to look at Wild with bright, curious eyes. “So what gender are you right now? Or none?”

Wild hums, letting their head fall back to the ground and closing their eyes in thought. “Right now? I don’t know, man, I feel like a…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [party popper noises] yeeHAW
> 
> >:3c i got in the title drop. idk if its awkward or not i am just very pleased about it.
> 
> again!!! thanks for reading this far!! last(?) chapter, i might update w an epilogue eventually but hoo boy im about to get suckerpunched by deadlines ;;w;;
> 
> i barely proofread in the latter parts bc i got really excited over this being done and if it shows im sorry fjsdlnsd please point out any Glaring mistakes (nicely or else ill cry) and otherwise please tell me your thoughts...? <:3c
> 
> not 2 b sappy but i love each and every one of yalls comments, they really made my day and made me wanna finish this. idk if yall comment for this last one but <333 regardless i hope this met ur expectations, or at least brought u some enjoyment.
> 
> big hi5 to all us trans folk out there i hope every one of you get the support and love yall deserve and that you are safe and well regardless of whether ur out or not!! stay vibing lads :>

**Author's Note:**

> the working title for the doc is "u caught me on a girl day (week) and idk how to tell u that im a boy today and if u call me miss one more time im gonna lose it"
> 
> i banged this out in 5 days which is really cool since it usually takes 10 months for me to get a hundred words. if you spot any mistakes or wanna offer some advice id love it (but please be polite), but also i would Love just any sort of comment or validation
> 
> an update....! soon. eventually. ive started the next chapter but also i have a 30 minute presentation due in a week and i havent started yet


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